Forgive and Forget
by MelloKai
Summary: House's parents come to visit,& Wilson learns of House's unhealthy childhood. House and Wilson get into an accident driving them back to the airport, and House is missing for a few days. Can House forgive his dad? Can Cuddy ever love House? FullSumInside.
1. Family Bonds and Old Memories

**Author's Note- So this is my first shot at House. Sorry if anybody's a little out of character, I"m still getting the hang of writing about what House would do because he's- well he's House! So I hope you liked it! Reviews are always nice! I own only the idea, not the characters!  
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**Reviews are nice, but I know some of you guys really don't have the time. **

**Summary: House's parents come out to visit, and upon driving them back to the airport, House and Wilson get into a car accident. House is ejected from the vehicle, and ends up hopelessly lost for a few hour until he is found, but he is still really out of it. HUDDY! Can House get through the pain and guilt of the accident, even though Wilson doesn't blame him? Also, Cuddy begins to see House for who he is really is, not who he portrays. Have fun! Enjoy the read!

* * *

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"What?!" Cameron and Chase looked up when they heard House shouting into his phone. "But I don't-" He waited for a moment, his brows thrust together in agitated concentration.

House slammed down his phone, and scowled, rubbing the side of his face with an open hand. Picking up his cane, he furiously waddled from the diagnostic room.

"Wait! House, what's wrong?" Inquired Cameron, rising to her feet.

"I have gas. Now get out of my way, unless you'd rather-" Cameron quickly stepped aside, ignoring the sarcastic comments rolling off his tongue like raindrops fall from the sky. Simple and easy.

The rest of his team simply stared at him, and then looked to each other with shrug. One never really knew what he meant anymore, his sarcastic comment slurring together with his truths. Sometimes only he really knew what he meant.

House made a beeline to Wilson's office, wincing as his cane slipped in a wet spot. He massaged his bad leg for a moment before carrying on, and then took off again.

* * *

"Wilson!" Wilson looked up from his desk, exasperatedly. House barged into his office, leaning heavily on his cane. "I need to borrow your car. "

"What? My- my car?" Asked Wilson, stumped as to what House would need his car for. House shook his head impatiently, a 'DUHHHH- you really think so?' look plastered on his face."Why?!"

"I can't exactly pick up my parents from the airport on my bike, now can I?" House ran a hand through his hair, and looked at the floor while he waited for Wilson to answer.

"Alright. Just _don't_ wreck the car, that's all I need." Wilson tossed him the keys, and House nodded gruffly. House opened his mouth, and then shut it, obviously thinking better of what he was about to say.

"Your welcome House!" Wilson's voice rang from the other side of the closed door. House closed his eyes for a moment, and then limped out to the parking lot to Wilson's car.

* * *

"There you are!" House's mom lurched forward, and wrapped her son in a big hug, kissing his cheek. "Ooh, Gregory! I miss you, sweetie!"

"Yeah,uh, me too." Murmured House awkwardly, wrapping his free arm around her in an odd one armed hug.

"Hey Dad." House's father snorted in response, not looking up from his wheelchair.

"It's getting worse and worse. He's starting to not recognize me..." Spoke his mother wistfully, her face twisting a little.

"Is he taking his medication?" Asked House formally.

"Yes, Greg, he is. And don't act so stiff! We're family! One big happy family, right?" House glared at her, and his mother sighed. When House was younger and his father was particularly pissy that was what his mother would ask him in such a cheerful voice. And at his young age he hadn't been able to argue."Greg, look, this may be the last time he ever recognizes you, so can you at least pretend to have a good time for him? Please, for your Mommy?"

House sighed and nodded curtly, as if wanting it to go unnoticed. His mother smiled at him, and helped him get his father into the car. House buckled his father into the back seat, and then popped Wilson's trunk. His mother looked inside at the large overcoat that was obviously not his his, and eyed him wearily.

"It's not my car, Mom." Said House with an incredulous look at his mother. His mother rose her eyebrows, an obvious indication of where House got most of his humor from. She raised her hands up as if to say 'I surrender' and walked slowly to the side of the car before gently lowered herself into the passenger seat.

House let out a soft curse as the wheelchair braced itself against the rim of the trunk, refusing to be put in. After another furious wrench it crashed into the trunk, and House yanked Wilson's overcoat away from the wheels. As brusque and gruff as he was, he didn't think his friend deserved wheelchair dirt and grime all over his overcoat. It was light in color, and soft to the touch. It reminded him of a blanket he'd had as a small child.

Pushing the thought from his head, he slammed the trunk shut, and hobbled to the driver's side door. He sighed and then hopped slightly to get his bad leg into the car, and then grimaced as he sat down. His mother took the came from him, and set it across her lap, as he turned the key in the ignition.

The car ride back wasn't entirely silent, but the bulk of it was. After so long, House turned the radio on, easily sifting to a jazz station and his mother absently hummed along for a little while before slipping off to sleep. House enjoyed the easy quietness of his sleeping parents as he drove on, doing his utmost not to wake them. Not out of courtesy, as he felt it would've been to anyone else, but rather to spare himself uncomfortable conversation and possible bickering between his father snorted in his sleep, and House glanced up, his blue eyes staring back at him momentarily in the mirror.

His father's head lolled to the left, drooling dominantly on his cotton button-down. He half smiled as his father snorted again and licked his chops, before commencing drooling. If his father kept this up, the week wouldn't be completely unbearable. He hummed along to 'What a Wonderful World', and sighed. Who was he kidding. This week would be long no matter what.

* * *

"It looks like lupus." Foreman held out his hands imploring House to do better.

"It's never Lupus!" Said House exasperatedly, leaning heavily on his marker board.

"What about Sarcoidosis?" Asked Mrs. House , walking into the room, wheeling her husband in.

"We're in the middle of something here!" Said House, throwing his hands wide. He looked to his employees for support, and when they offered none he groaned.

_"What about Sarcoidosis?" _Asked his mother, narrowing her eyes at him as she wheeled her husband in.

"Well it's possible-"

"Get a biopsy." spoke his mother impatiently, and when no one moved she shooshed them out of the room with the wavings of her hands. "Go on, go on! I'm a doctor,too! Now shoo!"

Bewildered, the team departed, and cast House shocked yet somehow smug looks as they shuffled out. House glared at them, and when they had gone, he turned to his mother.

"You need to take your father out to lunch. He actually asked to see you."

"I don't have time! Besides, what difference does it make now?" House turned from her and stared determinedly at the marker board, erasing a symptom and then rewriting in a new one. He hadn't had a chance to before his mother had come bursting in.

"Gregory! You are taking him to lunch, even if you take him to the damn cafeteria."

House grumbled under his breath as he snatched the handles of the wheelchair from his smug mother and wheel him out of the room silently.

"Whah?" His father sat up with a groan, low and rumbling from smoking, no doubt. "Where're we going?"

"Lunch." Said House, not even bothering to be cynical with his father at the moment. He wasn't going to bother playing if he couldn't win, at least not against his father.

"Hmph. Your mother insisted that I go with you...." Lied his father, and House sighed, and looked to the ceiling, avoiding answering any questions if at all possible.

"Watch it!" Shouted a patient as House nearly ran them over, and House merely proceeded to make a face. The teenager sauntered off and yanked open the door to a room and slammed it behind her.

House readjusted his cane on the back of the wheelchair, and leaned into the chair as they road down. Wilson was waiting for him in the lunch line, and he'd already ordered a double order of fries, after forgetting that House had company.

"Hey Jimmy. Meet Pops." Said House with a bright mocking smile. He'd heard Wilson talking to his parents on the phone on numerous occasions, and Wilson had numerous names for his parents.

"Hello, House." Said Wilson with a sigh."This is your father?"

"John House," Rasped his father, extending a weathered hand. Wilson shook it courteously with a warm smile.

About ten minutes later they all sat at a table, eating in awkward silence.

"What is this?" Asked John, pointing to a plastic cup.

"Your coffee." Said Wilson, looking to House, who shook his head, an 'I'll explain later' shake.

"Ah,coffee.... Nice. Very nice." reached for the coffee, and he leaned forward in his chair to get it. Wilson reached forward to help him, but smacked his hand away. "I can do it myself!"

People looked up at them, but Wilson simply smiled and they went back to their food. John's fingers brushed the side of the cup, and he leaned forward a little further, and made a wild grab for the cup. It tilted, and spun around and then spilled all over the table and onto himself. House jumped up painfully to avoid the hot coffee, landing on his bad leg, and then started mopping up the coffee with wadded napkins.

"Give me the napkins, you idiot! Do you want me to burn the flesh off my legs?" Barked his father angrily. He snatched the towels angrily, and began furiously wiping at his legs. People were staring shamelessly, but House ignored them.

"I'm going to get more towels." Whispered Wilson, getting up and running to get the towels. He could hear snapping at his son, and he grimaced.

"Why the hell didn't you give me my coffee?" Demanded John, his face accusing as House piled the sodden napkins on a plate."Answer me Gregory!"

"You told us not to. " Said House shortly, accepting the extra towels and napkins from Wilson.

"I did not!" Retorted his father.

House ignored his fathers insults now, and simply cleaned up the burning hot mess, not noticing as it burned his fingers red. Wilson simply stared on, concluding miserably that House's father obviously had Alzheimer's. He wasn't used to seeing House take insults like that,and it didn't suit him.

The mess was cleaned up, and the towels and napkins in the garbage, and soon they would leave. House left slowly, not ill at ease anymore now that everyone was staring at his father who slept heavily, drooling on himself once more. He did however, avert his eyes from Wilson who was trying as best he could to read into House's emotions,the ones that seemed to be , once the walls were up, impossible to perceive. It was about as productive as ramming your head repeatedly into a steel door to get it open.

* * *

House pushed the wheelchair toward his mother without a word and simply left, leaving his mother and Wilson standing there awkwardly.

"I'd, uh, better get going." Started his mother, smoothing out her blouse absently as she collected her things. "I need to make sure John gets his sleep."

"Alzheimer's, am I right?" Blurted Wilson impulsively.

"Yes. I hate to see him go back. It was a rough time he's headed back towards. I hate to see it, oh you bet I do." Rambled as she wheeled her husband towards the elevator.

"What do you mean?" Wilson walked slowly, so as to make her feel more comfortable.

"Well, he was going through a lot of depression after he came back from Nam. He was gone awhile when Gregory was a little baby, and he came back when he got shot. I don't think he ever got over it though. His psychiatrist said it was P-T-S-D, and I think he was right. He was so angry and bitter, and that man could drink enough for a small army. High tolerance, good for driving- but horrible for money. He nearly drank us into a ditch."

"That is common with anxiety and depression. Drinking takes the edge off." Nodded Wilson.

"Yes," Agreed House's mom , her face contemplative. "I know you're his best, if only friend. That is why I am telling you this. Do you understand?" Wilson nodded. "It got to the point where I had to remove him from the home, he was so screwed around up there. He was getting too aggressive with _everybody_. Gregory was always happier without his, well you know what I mean. They never did get along.... And John,well,now he's slipping into senility! And I guess it's a bit of a bad trick for Gregory. Please, don't let him down, okay?"

"I won't. I promise." Nodded Wilson, not knowing what on Earth that could or might very possibly entail.

**Author's Note- So this is my first shot at House. Sorry if anybody's a little out of character, I"m still getting the hang of writing about what House would do because he's- well he's House! So I hope you liked it! Reviews are always nice!**


	2. Dirty Laundry

"Greg, dear promise you'll be nice to that lovely doctor,"his mother implored as he hugged her goodbye. "She's quite a beautiful woman, and I know you. Don't drive her away-"

"You're going to miss your flight."Cut in House, hoping to avoid any subjects anywhere near the precinct of his "love-life".

"Goodbye, er... son." Struggled his father, scratching the back of his head anxiously. He wanted to get out of Princeton, out of New Jesey, and as far awake from his problems as possible. Putting him along in a room with his father worked about as well trying to convince meth-junkies to share their loot.

"Bye." Murmured House gruffly, not looking his father in the eye. He accepted his father's outstretched hand, and then waved courteously as they passed through the door to the hall that connected the plane to the building for boarding.

He waited with Wilson, who claimed to be picking up a book he'd ordered on new-age treatments on cancer. One of his patients refused to take medicine, for fear her 'award-winning' hair would fall out. So, he needed something to show her all her options. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. If she wanted to take the road less traveled, more power to her. House had albeit impatiently listened to Wilson as they drove to the airport in Wilson's small car, only for the excuse not to talk to his parents.

House half expected his parents to run back out of the boarding doors and claim to be staying for another week, and only after he and Wilson set off he let himself breath freely again.

"Damn, I thought they'd never leave!" Blurted House, limping along as he quickly as he could away from the boarding area.

"Yes, well, visits from parents can be frustrating." Agreed Wilson uncertainly.

"Yeah...." House trailed off as he stared at someone's ass, and Wilson rolled his eyes.

"Do you remember where I parked the car?"Quizzed House with an innocent look. "I figured since it was your car-"

"Actually, yes, I did." Said Wilson with a triumphant 's face fell, and he then he quickly composed it.

"Good work, Jimmy!" And then he nodded with that stupid-ass grin and Wilson chuckled.

"So, House? I've got a question about a patient."

"Alright, shoot."

"She doesn't want chemo, because she loves her hair and she wants to try some newer therapies without anything to make her hair fall out. I know I have no way to save her if she doesn't want it-but I'm apt to force her to take the chemo, as it's a medical liability if I don't, but I don't think it's right to impose on her, the other stuff _could _work, I have heard some stuff on it from respected medical doctors, but I don't know..."

"I'm the last person you'd ever come to for ethical advice, which means you've already asked every other person. No one's given you the answer you want."Said House stopping short, and giving Wilson a hard look in the eye. "It's simple. You don't give her the treatment, she's going to die. New-age therapies work on some diseases, but sure as hell not cancer."

Wilson didn't say anything, but rather shifted the book in his arm, and nodded. "I guess."

"So, are you driving?" Inquired House with a grunt as he stepped off the curb into the parking lot.

"Yeah, I gotta get my drycleaning anyway." sighed Wilson, scanning the isles for his car.

"Dammit Wilson!"

"I'm sorry! I accidentally took the wrong door-"

"Yeah just like I _accidentally_ forgot to tighten the cap to my Vicodin when your dog-"

"You what?!" Shouted Wilson.

"I-" Wilson cut house off with a loud shout.

"Oh my god! I can't believe you!" Groaned Wilson in disbelief."Do you how much trouble-"

"Oh yes, and this is just wonderful for me, too." Spat House limping along miserably after casting Wilson a glare.

"Shut up. It's barely 60 yards!"

"Yeah, did you forget I'm _not_ supposed to walk that far?" Scowled House.

"House, shut up. Once we get into the car I bet your going to sleep the whole way back, and try to kill me with your cane in some "dream" like you did last time I drove you somewhere. So I think we're even."

House glowered at him once more before hunkering down and making serious limp-time across the parking lot. He had every intention of taking a serious nap, and he be damned if anything disturbed him.

* * *

House jolted awake to the sound of cars honking, and looked around in panicked alarm. "Where're we?"

The sky had darkened and the bright lights were glaringly bright in his retinas.

"We're still an hour away. Go back to sleep." Sighed Wilson, who had lost the quiet sanctity of peace in his car. House shrugged and rooted around a little bit before going back to sleep, the honking cars blaring wildly in his dreams.

He was getting a lap dance from a hooker in the middle of a busy highway, and the dream made absolutely no sense to him but he didn't care.

* * *

Wilson slipped into the fast-lane to pass a slow-going minivan and then pulled back into the right-hand-lane. It was raining now, and it was freezing in some spots where it had rested for a long time. House stirred in his sleep every so often and remarked odd things. Once he praised himself for being such a moron and said he should kiss himself. It made no sense at all to Wilson, but he knew it made sense to House. Hopefully.

"Raaawwwh!" House lurched awake, and flailed his arms in attempt to block some unseen enemy. "I'm not a baby, I swear!"

"House what the hell are you-"

"Huh? Wha- oh shit." House looked around, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim lights. "Sorry." He averted his eyes to the dashboard, and grabbed Wilson's unfinished sandwich.

"House! I wasn't finished with that!" Protested Wilson.

"Yeah, well I'll let you know when _I_ am." Spoke House through bites of food with a looked around thoughtfully. "Looks like you're going to miss picking up that dry cleaning.

"Nah, they're open pretty late. I should be able to get it still. We're not that far."

The semi in front of them swerved a little, and then straightened out again, but neither took notice. House and Wilson "gossiped" as men do, including the who's hot and who's not, and grudges and complaints and thanks and every other thing men can talk about.

Wilson slammed on the brakes when the semi stopped short, and let out a swear. House threw his arm out to keep Wilson from flying through the windshield, and braced himself with an arm to the ceiling.

"What the hell is his problem?" Panted Wilson, his fists gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles were paled.

"I don't know, but you'd better pass him before he kills us." Breathed House.

"Good idea." Wilson pulled out of the lane to pass the semi when it blew a tire, and the whole thing spun out, taking up both lines of the highway.

"Wilson! _Stop_!"Shouted House, even though Wilson was doing his absolute best at the moment. Both feet had smashed down on the breaks as soon as the semi in front of them had begun to slide sideways, but they continued to slide at a fast pace.

"I'm trying House!" Shouted Wilson, his voice cracking in random intervals. The car slammed into the side of the semi, the back slinging forward as momentum caught up with them.

Time didn't slow down, and House's life didn't flash before his eyes, but rather everything happened so fast that neither of the two knew what had happened until they landed about ten feet apart from each other off the side of the highway. The rain pounded down on their backs, a tireless reminder of the ensured to be endured pain. House lifted his head to see if Wilson was okay, but Wilson had already conked out, and House crawled closer to him, the effort of doing so almost bringing tears to his eyes.

"Wilson!" Wilson didn't move, and House sucked in a breath as he crept closer to Wilson, sliding in the mud, and nearly slipping down the slippery slope to the bottom of the wooded pit.

"Wilson!" House dropped his hand onto Wilson's shoulder, and shook him with what little energy he had left."Wilson... Wake up..."

"House?" Wilson's eyes cracked open and he sniffed loudly, and tried to sit up, wincing as his opposite shoulder seared with pain. "Ah! Dammit..." Wilson eased himself back down and groaned angrily. "I think I dislocated my shoulder, House."

"I can't feel much, only my leg..." Murmured House. "I don't know what's going to happen when the Vicodin-" House broke off and suddenly starting searching his pockets, and smiled as he produced his bottle, and he shook it triumphantly."No..."

"What?" Spoke Wilson sharply, unsure what to think of House's terrified words."

"Nothing..." House popped the bottle open, and with a gut-wrenching twist he realized that there were only four left.

"Your almost out, aren't you?" Wilson took House's silence as a confirmation and sighed. "You've been popping them like tic-tacs ever since your parents have been here."

"Yeah, well..."House trailed off, knowing Wilson would understand the entirity of his silence.

He pulled himself up to be parallel to his friend, and groaned as he plopped down into the mud."We're not going anywhere. I can't barely see a thing, and the rain is too hard. Be careful where you step or you'll end up down there." House pointed and Wilson turned his head sideways and pushed his good shoulder down to get a better look. All he could see was black.

"It looks like a long way down..." Wilson murmured warily.

"Yeah.... Wilson?"

"What?" Wilson turned to look at House's grim face.

"I don't think we're going to get to the dry cleaners." House turned away, nodding as Wilson sighed with an agreeing yes. And then he chuckled. Because it was so damn simple a thing to think about, and yet- it was so complicated at that very second.

House snickered and then both men burst out laughing; they laughed til their sides were hurting and their ribs ached, and tears rolled down their a little while at least, it didn't hurt so much to laugh, at least, metaphorically speaking. Their ribs were bruised to hell and back, and eventually it ironically _did_ hurt to laugh, no matter how much they wished it.

"Do you think anyone'll find us?" Asked Wilson as he stared into the sky, raindrops splattering all over his face.

"I don't know, Wilson. But I do know," Grunted House as he pulled himself into sitting position," If we don't get out of this rain- it won't matter. I'm starting to feel all warm and fuzzy."

And by the look that House gave him, dark and cast in shadows, Wilson knew exactly what House meant. And it wasn't the warm feeling you get when you feel loved, but rather the onset of hypothermia.

* * *

The sirens woke House from his hazy sleep, and he sat up abruptly. He heard the sirens wailing in the near distance and he punched Wilson in the stomach when he didn't awake to a gentle shoulder nudge.

"Listen!" Barked House before Wilson could protest. Wilson's face remained unseen in the blackness of the night, but House remembered his face well enough to think of the shocked look on his face.

"The police!" Shouted Wilson. "We gotta yell so they can here us!"

* * *

"Do you here that?" Asked a portly officer as he inspected the wreckage for body. The car was completely incinerated, the charred reckage seemingly devoid of any bodies, lest they lie cremated in the charred sandy ash.

"Nah. Probably just the wind." The sounds was low in pitch, and it changed often.

"That doesn't sound like the wind..." Said the larger officer, and the smaller, lankier officer groaned. "What if they didn't burn- what if they're out there-"

"Do you really want to get a search party in here? I mean come on, it's a death trap on this side of the highway! _If_ they made it, they probably died when they hit the ground!"

"But we'd be killing them if they _did_ survive!" Choked the first police officer.

"Fine. We get a search party in there in the morning. But only one morning, got it?" Snapped the other. He'd seen many search parties in his day, and they weren't a fun sight. Many a time the people were found dead and decaying a week later, with bugs and worms crawling all through them. But, if there was a chance- any chance, he did have an obligation.

* * *

House thumped back into the wall with a depressed sigh."They didn't hear us..."

"Maybe they-"

"Don't get your hopes us Wilson. I watch TV, I know how this goes!" House glared at Wilson through the dark, and then leaned against the rock wall of the alcove they'd crawled under. It was going to be a long night, and he figured he'd might as well get some sleep. Wilson dropped after rather quickly, his head throbbing all the while, leaving him glad to escape the pain.

But House, however, couldn't sleep. His legs throbbed something awful, his left one obviously sprained rather badly, and it felt as though there might be a fracture in his right thigh, just near the tender spot where the infarction had been. He couldn't take the pills, for he knew Wilson might need them, but he couldn't stand to go through withdrawal. Inner turmoil kept him awake for a long time, and only when his leg began to grow numb with cold did he drop off.

**Author's Note- I'm sorry this took so long, it was difficult to figure this out. I'm still learning the writing anatomy of House... :D So enjoy. Reviews are freaking lovely! Anyway, hpoe to get a new chapter up soon! :D**


	3. Sleeping

Cuddy sighed as the after-dinner rush of emergency room patients slowly filled the waiting room. Wilson and House were running late and she had a growing suspicion that they running late on some purposeful joke House had contrived; she could just picture them giggling away and gawking at girls at some local bar.

She called his pager a few times before giving up. He wasn't gong to come back tonight? Well she'd make him make up for it. She was planning on giving him enormous amounts of clinic duty, and then she'd see who was giggling like a four year old.

She did her best to cover the E.R. that night, gong through the easier more simple cases very quickly and then dropping some of them on the interns.

Foreman and Thirteen worked side by side, up to their elbows in sick patients. Foreman was treating her as his patient for Huntington's, and so far everything seemed to be going well.

Kutner was setting an elderly man's arm, and Taub worked across the room. He was working very carefully to stitch up a small girls gashed knee. He cracked his neck and set back to work, the little girl asleep in her momma's arms.

"Cuddy! I need your help!" Panted Cameron as the little boy behind her shrieked in agony.

"What's wrong with him?" Cuddy's voice practically oozed worry and she sucked in an apprehensive breath through her teeth.

"I have no idea. " Confessed Cameron miserably.

* * *

House stared at his phone, his face etched with determined lines as he raised it through the air in wide arcs as he search for a signal.

"You're not going to get a signal,House." Grunted Wilson as House limped toward the pitt's rim.

"You don't know that Wilson..."Murmured House as he grimaced through a step.

"Hey! Be careful!" Shouted Wilson as House stepped dangerously close to the edge.

House turned and half-sneered at Wilson, giving him an immense look of incredulity. Wilson held up a weak arm in exhausted surrender and the grimaced.

"Here, take one of these." House said gruffly, forcing a pill into his hand. "And don't argue with me before I chance my mind." As an after thought, he shoved the whole bottle of Vicodin into his hand.

Wilson's face fell slightly, and he raised the bottle in his hand as an exhausted sign of appreciation. "Thanks..."

"Urm,no problem-don't mention it." House lowered his eyes to the ground, and then looked around, avoiding Wilson's eyes. "But, uh, really, don't mention it."

Wilson chuckled weakly, and dry-swallowed the pill with a grimace.

They wouldn't have been in this mess if it wasn't for him they wouldn't been in this mess, and Wilson wouldn't need the pain medication. House himself was starting to feel the tremors of withdraw wrapping around him, but he pushed them from his mind even though his body was crawling for Vicodin.

He angrily leaned against a large rock as he made his way back over to search for a signal, silently damning Cameron. If she hadn't convinced him to see his parents off right and properly. If he hadn't come to see them off, he wouldn't have needed to borrow Wilson's car, and Wilson wouldn't have been it- thus saving them both from the pain they were in.

House shook his head slightly, grunting as he hobbled toward the steep declining hill. He winced fractionally as he rose his arm, his aching muscle chorusing in a glorious protest.

The phone beeped once, and an indicator that it had gone down a bar in energy. House hurriedly looked at it, and scowled with a groan of protest. He was already two-thirds down, only a third of the battery left.

House moved more quickly now, wincing terribly as he hobbled to and fro searching for a signal. He nearly fell down the hill when he actually got one.

* * *

Cuddy haughtily marched into House's office to chew him out, faltering when she found it empty.

Narrowing her eyes, she peeked into the diagnostics room and scowled when all she found was Taub, Thirteen, and Kutner were its only inhabitants.

"Where's House?" Asked, no, _demanded_ Cuddy.

"I don't know. He's not answering his pager, and I tried his cell. Got a machine saying he wasn't available in his current location." Taub shrugged with a frown, " I guess we're on our own with this case."

"So you _all_ haven't seen House?"

"Nah. Maybe you should check with Cameron, and Chase. I bet Foreman might know." Suggested Thirteen.

"Okay, if you hear from him, let we know, alright?" Cuddy's voice was worried and her skin creased at the brow.

"Don't worry. If we see or hear anything we'll let you know." Confirmed Kutner.

"Thanks..." Murmured Cuddy absently, closing the door behind her.

----------

"Wilson?" Cuddy let out a frustrated sigh when Wilson's office was also found to be empty.

She glanced over at the desk, noting its clear surface. He hadn't even been in to work...

Cuddy marched down to the E.R., surgery, and then back to the diagnostics room to quiz Cameron, Chase, and Foreman; turning up the same answer at everyone. Nah, haven't seen him. Huh-uh. Nope, haven't seem him, sorry.

* * *

"Dammit, Cuddy! Pick up the phone!" Cursed House, his tone gravely with worry.

"Where th- hell-- you?" Demanded Cuddy.

"We were in an accident!" Rushed House, "We're lost- Cuddy, you need to send us help!" Shouted House.

"What?!" Cuddy shreiked on the other side of the line in disbelief and confusion.

"Car. Accident." House stated impatiently, realizing that the connection was bad. "."

"Where--at--guys--urt?--ou--ay?" House filled in the blanks of her message, and responded with:

"Ahm, about a half hour out from the hospital-Yeah. Wilson is hurt, but he'll live. Now get us some damn help."

House had no idea what she said next. "How--d-- re-- t?" In truth what she said was 'How bad is he hurt?'

"Cuddy-" The phoned clicked off as the battery went dead, and House cursed."_Cuddy!_"

House slumped to the ground, the pain swelling tremendously in his leg. House took no notice and pounded on the frozen surface of the ground.

Wilson slept on, oblivious to House's efforts. House rubbed his eyes to keep from yelling out in pain and frustration. His whole body was beginning to ache, and his stomach was sick with hunger,but after a while the pain went away and he was even hungry anymore. Just sick.

House crawled back to alcove almost like an army man. He leaned all his weight onto his left side, and pulled himself along using only his arms. His right leg rested idly upon his left, and he didn't move the broken limb. His legs poked out of the alcove for a moment before he dragged them the rest of the way barely fit in there with Wilson, but he figured it was better than freezing to death by himself.

One day, and then half of another had passed, and things were looking bleak. Try as he might to cover things up, Wilson knew House wasn't doing well, though he said nothing to House. House had no idea Wilson knew, which made things simpler between them, but was also an insult to Wilson's intelligence. Wilson tried not to take it personally.

The snow was falling heavily now,definitely not rain anymore. House slept while Wilson kept watch,to avoid such a predicament as the sleep party coming while they slept. And so Wilson remained vigil, with his ears wide open.

Wilson guiltily watched House's features twitching at the brow, and the muscles scrambling in his jaw as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. Every so often House's lips jerk into a sneer and his chin wavered, and Wilson couldn't tell if he was on the verge of being sick or crying.

He eyes the leg, noting the slight disfigurement of shape beneath the jean. It wasn't a horrible break, but it was definitely putting House through hell, especially with the infarction. Definitely with the infarction. He carefully prodded House's ribs, relieved to find none broken, but obviously bruised at the way House twitched in his sleep. The gashes on House's face and upper torso weren't deep enough to cause permanent scarring, but if they got infected they might.

Wilson looked down at himself, studying his now rugged attire. His suit was torn in the shoulder and sleeves, and his dress-shirt was torn through in the middle, exposing his torso to the elements. His slacks were torn through in the knees, and one ripped almost completely off from the knee down. House's suit top was torn through at the seems of the shoulders, and hung awkwardly around his neck. Bits of glass still clung to the material of his t-shirt, and some had even gone through. Wilson grimaced when he realized his expensive shoes were ruined completely. He glanced longingly at House's comfortable sneakers, and then sighed prodded House once more in the rib to make sure it wasn't fractured, and gingerly sat back with a miserable sigh.

House's eyes opened and he rose a brow at Wilson, "You know, it's kind of hard to sleep with you prodding at me like a five-year old!" He said slowly, his voice lazy with sleep.

Wilson shrugged. "I was making sure you weren't suffering oh-so-terribly... I'm sorry I bothered." Wilson carefully sat back once more, hissing as his shoulder shrieked."Listen, House, I'm going to need a huge favor-"

"What?" Inquired House with a furrowed brow.

"I need you to-"

"I'm not sharing body heat!"Joked House with a straight face, "But seriously I'm no--"

"House- let me talk, okay!?" Burst Wilson in exasperation.

"Fine, carry on Jimmy!" House's voice took on Sean Connery's accent, and he made a goofy face.

Wilson sighed heavily. "I'm going to to need you to relocate my shoulder. I can't wait any longer for the search team to get here."

"It's going to hurt like a-" Protested House.

"I know, House. And I can't do it myself."

The few remaining birds able to rough it through the winter scattered. House couldn't blame them as they shot like bullets away from the sound of Wilson's screams.

* * *

"Oh my God... Oh my _God!" _Cuddy watched Cameron as she freaked out, raking her hands through her blonde hair as she shook her head. "It's all my fault!"

"What? How is i-"Started Chase.

"I told him to see his parents off properly! I _told _him, too!"Cameron said in self-guilt.

"if you hadn't told him to Wilson or I would've." Sighed Cuddy. "Don't forget. House said _Wilson _was the one that was hurt, so I bet House is taking great care of him. Wilson'll be fine." She was right about that, but on the other hand.... "But he didn't say anything of himself.I know he would never admit he got hurt.... I hope he's okay."

"The search team are out looking for them right now. They've already mapped out the projectory possibilities." Sighed Foreman. "Maybe they'll find him by the time-"

"What do you mean maybe?" Blurted Taub, "They're going too, just give them a little more time."

"Call the police station and have them put you through to somebody. Tell them that when they find House and Wilson they are to be brought here!" Suggested Kutner.

"We know more about them than anyone. Their usual diets, habits, environments- almost everything." Agreed Thirteen.

"Alright..." Sighed Cuddy, her face drawn with such distress the others obviously were worried for her.

Losing both of them would obviously kill her. House and Wilson were like brothers, and Wilson was her best friend- you couldn't have one and not have the other. It was like Oreos without the cream filling, or peanut butter without the peanuts. They just didn't work without one another. Cuddy brushed a stray hair from her face as contemplated worst case scenarios before forcing the useless thoughts from her mind.

"There's no use in scaring ourselves. Make sure you stay positive, and try to help that little boy."Then Cuddy was gone, presumably off to her office.

* * *

He was at the hospital, and everything seemed to be fine and working again. So it was all a dream?... House laughed out loud to himself and the people in the lobby stared at him until made such a funny face it seemed impossible. His eyes shot of in different directions, and he flipped down his lower lips and used his tongue to make fat lips, in the process wrinkling his nose and forehead. The lobby-dwellers were forced to look away or burst out laughing.

-----------

"So what have we got?" Asked House airily as he limped into the diagnosis room, leaning gratefully on his cane.

"You seem awful happy this morning," Observed Cameron.

"Aw shucks!" House laughed like a loon and smiled like a fool. "You mean it? No- actually I feel like shit today."

Cameron's head snapped back indignantly and opened her mouth to protest but House cut her off.

"Where are the other guys?" House cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes as he pondered the reason for their absence.

"What other people?" Foreman stared at House, his expression a mix of worry and anger as he mulled over the possibility of House pulling a trick.

"You know who I'm talking about!" Yelled House. "Don't mess with me, Foreman!"

"No really, who are you talking about, House?" Asked Chase, his features modeling a look of uncomprehending stupidity.

"Taub?Thirteen?Kutner?" House arched his brows expectantly as he awaited their answers.

"Who?" Sputtered Cameron, shaking her head in questioning confusion.

* * *

Wilson watched House twisting and writhing in his sleep. Wilson knew House was having a nightmare, but couldn't bring himself to wake him. He'd rather House have nightmares than be in constant mumbled incoherently in his sleep, only sometimes making even the slightest gist of sense, but more often than not they were random strings of words.

His shoulder throbbed incessantly, even though House had forced him to take a Vicodin. House was in constant pain, but still refused to take the medicine. House knew it was his fault, no matter who he tried to blame, and he took the painful throbbing as punishment. From time to time he would cry out unawares in his sleep,and grab at his leg.

Wilson jumped slightly when he heard a shout in the distance, and then hopefully returned a joyous shout as loud as he could. He shook House roughly on the shoulder, and then turned back to yell once more in response.

"Over here!" He turned to House, " Come on, House, wake up, they're here!"

"Come on! Over here!" Shouted Wilson.

House remained immobile his breathing moderately labored.

"House? House! Wakeup! _Help!" _He shook him on the shoulder, and then even resorted to slapping him where he'd broken his bone. "House! You've got to wake up!"

House's face contorted painfully and he groaned and then all comprehending slipped from his face. Wilson shook him even as the search team found them, and wouldn't let them leave take him to safety until they took House first.

"You need to take us to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital!" Shouted Wilson above the whirring of the helicopter.

"We know- we've already gotten those orders!"

"What? Never mind! But we need to get his body temperature up! He's hypothermic!" The paramedic rolled her eyes and nodded, and covered House in an electrical blanket.

For the rest of the way to the hospital Wilson focused on waking House up, lest he slip into a coma. He did everything humane he could think of, but he was t Nonetheless, he didn't give up trying to rouse House from unconsciousness. He waved the smelling salts (**A/N: Thanks! You guys rock- thanks for helping me find the name!) **under his nose and he didn't wake up. But Wilson, even against his better judgment didn't stop trying to wake House up.

But he never did.

**Author's Note: So, I hope you like it! Reviews are magnificent! I hope you enjoyed, and I really hope that I kept them in character! Any ideas, or suggestions, you know what to do! Leave reviews, silly! And please, what are those smelly things you hold under people's noses to help them regain consciousness???? Thanks!**

**Lauren/Mellokai  
**


	4. Seizing Dreams

Cuddy didn't stare at House miserably for long hours as Wilson did, but rather flung herself into her work. Wilson, however, flung himself into becoming one with the chair next to House's hospital bed. He refused to leave his post at House's side, pitching an uncharacteristically vehement argument with anyone that even suggested leaving;Cuddy was still mad at him, even though she had no concrete grounds to be, but she was obviously worried about them both.

If this kept up, she probably would lose both of them. House hadn't woken up, or even moved at all for that matter. The begs covers were only mussed where Wilson leaned so restlessly against them.

"You know we can't give him anything, Wilson!"Protested Cuddy helplessly.

"He's in pain!"Tossed Wilson, his face twisting into worry as he threw his good hand wide, and his other swayed a little bit in it's sling, as if asking her for help, for anything. "The time he actually,_truly_ needs a strong dose of pain medication _you_ won't give it to him!"

"Wilson, you know it would compromise the tests- you of all people should know _that_-"

"He's had head trauma- he doesn't need to be sober if he's in a coma!" Wilson's jaw set in a firm line, and his lips thinned. He glowered up at her from his uncomfortable chair, and Cuddy narrowed her eyes.

"Wilson, if you can't make rational decisions, I am going to pull you from all your patients." Cuddy's face was firm, and her mouth set as she stared him down.

"You can't do that! They _need_ me-"

"Yes we _all_ know about your need for needy people, Wilson!" Shot Cuddy, her face growing red as she became angrier.

"Yes, and we all know how you repel them, Cuddy. Look at him for God's sake! You're the one who told his parents to come out in the first place!" Wilson was grabbing at tender strings to hang from in this battle of words, and didn't care where he'd fall. But the look on her face was enough for him at the moment. She turned on heel and marched out of the room, not a word more or less, and no sounds to be heard.

Wilson's eyes widened as he realized what he'd done, and he stood up to leave, but turned to look at House at he last second. His face was drawn together in the brows, and his lips white from being pressed together so hard. His eyes squinted in his sleep as he tried to block out the pain. Wilson's heart ached to know what he had done to his friend;his _best_ friend.

Cuddy was his only other friend, his only real friend that he could actually talk to, and he couldn't do this to her, at least not without feeling like a crept over to House, and wiped the sweat off his forehead. House grimaced at the pressure on his already pounding head, and his breathing jumped up to speed. Wilson removed his hand just as quickly, and House's face relaxed ever so slightly. Wilson rubbed his hand on his pants wiping off the sweat;all the while marveling at hot House's head was. That was the last thing they needed: for House's brain to melt.

* * *

"What is wrong with the air-conditioning?" Panted House, glaring at Cuddy from across the desk. She sat back with sigh.

"No idea.A work is coming in soon, but there's nothing we can do for now." She yanked her hair back into a ponytail, something she rarely did, and House scowled as he limped from her office.

His leg hurt something terrible, and he couldn't believe that the Vicodin wasn't granting even the slightest help. He forced himself down the hall, avoiding the pile of puke in the middle of it, and the person it belonged to in a wide and the others fell into step behind him, rattling off the latest news about the patient. He had convinced himself that they were playing a practical joke on him, and that they knew who the new team was.

A sudden pain in his head halted his walking and he nearly passed out due to the intensity of the immense pain. His team rushed forward to catch him,and he let them. House's head throbbed with pain, and he moaned loudly on the floor.

Cameron shifted his body so that he lay in a straight line,and with a gently finger pulled one of House's eyelids open, shining her pocket-light in his eye to check for dilation and nerve response. House yelped and batted the light from her hand, and rubbed his eyes rose swaying to a sitting position, and leaned on one hand while he rubbed with the other. "House! You didn't have to-"

House's eyes glazed over, and Chase sighed."House if you're not going to listen, we might as well spare the lecture." Usually at this point House would nod and come up with some sassy retort, but House sat frozen upon the floor.

House tried to move around, but his muscles were locked, and they all trembled and spasmed in rapid succession. His whole body was quite literally shaking as his whole body convulsed. Chase and Foreman pinned him down, and he could vaguely here someone shouting for Ativan-stat. Someone was screaming. Or were they? He wasn't sure. Should he be screaming? Could he even scream? He wondered if he was. He was loosing feeling in everything now. It swam before his eyes, and he was number now than he ever was on Vicodin.

He couldn't remember where he was now, and he fought it with every once of strength he had, and it was slowly slipping from him. House heard a noise of metal on metal and was reminded harshly of a the sound of the hood of a car being peeled back into a window shield. Glass shattered somewhere..... This made no sense to him... That or it made perfect sense, he just didn't understand the answer it gave him.

* * *

Wilson scowled as the nurse banged the bedside table against the hospital bed, knocking Wilson's root beer bottle to the floor. House lay dormant now, the violent shaking of a few moments ago gone. He'd been shaking something terribly, his whole body tossing in a single shaking motion as he convulsed. Wilson ran a hand through his hair. He glanced down at himself and sighed. He was a mess. He hadn't taken a shower in two days, and he hadn't shaved either.

"Wilson, I can stay with him if you need." Offered Cameron. "Or I can bring you something-"

"I'll do it." Shrugged Foreman. "There's nothing I can do at the moment, and besides- you need to stay with him too. If he seizes again-"

"Okay, fine. We get it. Just- go." Kutner blurted, leaning against the wall with a huff of worry.

Foreman shrugged and departed, leaving Wilson, Kutner,Cameron, and Taub with House. His pain lines were gone, and his face was finally completely relaxed. His leg was in a bulky cast, and Wilson knew he wouldn't be happy about that- he wouldn't be able to massage his leg when it started to really hurt. Which Wilson was sure it would.

Wilson sighed and stood up from his chair, stretched and then flopped helplessly back down. He didn't know what to do other than stay with House.

Cameron sighed before trotting out of the room, her face downcast as she loftily spoke of running more tests. Her voice was a little too cheery to be authentic, and Chase groaned before jogging after her. She might still have feelings for House, but they were currently a thing. Chase wondered how long this would last- he could only take so much of her pining away for a man in a coma.

Wilson eaves-dropped for a few moments before pulling himself half-heartedly out their heated discussion. He remembered arguing like that with Amber, and with a pang of guilt remembered that this was House's second vehicular crash, at least that _he_ knew of. He wondered absently how House had taken it when he'd left- he'd sure as hell been miserable, but he knew House took things more personally, even though when given a chance he was quick to forgive. Wilson was surprised that House had fallen back into step so quickly when he came back, and the fact that he didn't even get that mad. He'd sure as hell be mad if_ he_ was in that situation...

He stood up suddenly, not knowing why the idea came to him- but it did. Maybe it was the fact that his throat was swelling painfully as he tried to repress his emotions..."Hey,Cameron!" He called out, and he beckoned her close as Chase followed behind her."I want to get him down for an MRI."

"We can't- it's booked solid! The weather's been terrible, and any other time we'd be fine, but-"

"Cameron he needs it. I think he's got brain swelling,along with whatever else happened to him. I'm pretty sure he had a concussion- he flew out headfirst you know-"

"Alright-look- I'll see what I can do, okay? Try to cool him down. He's been running that damn fever all day, and it's not doing him any good."Chase interrupted, turning on heel to leave. Wilson sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair, and noticed that it was indeed growing greasy. He grimaced and then shook his head, and focused on the task at hand.

"Well, what do you say to an ice bath, Cameron?" Cameron furrowed her brows and nodded before paging Cuddy.

* * *

Chase trotted down to the MRI room to see if there was any possible way to move someone around. He groaned as he saw the immensely long list, and huffed out a determined breath.

As he flipped through page after page he let his thoughts meander, and he soon found himself thinking about House. In all honesty to himself, the man was more like a father to him than his own was. He was stimulating, and competitive, fun even. His own father had pushed him so hard to succeed, but without insensitive but for his mother's rage. She'd been quite a card, and he was almost glad to be rid of her. But one can only be so glad of such things as that. He missed his own father as well, but he was assuming, with obviously no intent of finding out, that he would miss the unintended surrogate father much more. He wondered if House ever thought of him as a sort of son, and then shrugged it off. He wouldn't- he couldn't. He didn't have time for such things, and didn't have any reason to think them. Did he?

Chase smiled suddenly as he found an opening, and he picked up the phone to dial the man in charge of running the MRI unit.

* * *

House awoke to the cold feeling spreading icily through his limbs. He was so cold it felt like he was on fire. He was apt to stop drop and roll, but he was too damn tired and groggy. It was so dark... Why was it... so dark? His thoughts were slow, very slow... too slow...

Everything was murky,and he couldn't lift his eyelids. His body trembled violently with each even remotely small contact with the ice of metal side of the tub he was in. He felt cold hands on his shoulders, and something being pressed to his forehead, but he couldn't move or see anything at all. "Hello?" He couldn't tell if his mouth was moving or not. He was trapped; inside he was panicking with the knowledge that there was nothing he could do. He was so used to being able to connive his way around corners and past problems, but this was the mother-load of problems for him. He couldn't solve it if he couldn't move.

With a leap he heard Wilson's voice. "We need more 's melting!" Melting... Ice?

"Wilson!" He didn't if the sound even came out- but it was as loud as he could shout. He abandoned the thought and moved on to the matter at hand.

He was wet, wasn't he? Was he naked? No, he could feel the fabric of his boxers swishing around as more ice was added. He let out a sigh with the knowledge he was wearing boxers. Briefs were for old people. If he was going to be seen in his underwear, at least he'd look cool doing it. He forced his mind back on track, even though the medicine made if hard. It would be so easy to just slip back into obscurity, and slip under the surface... No. House grit his teeth, one of the few things he could do, and set to work solving his greatest medical mystery. His own.

* * *

"His temperatures down, so it's not dangerous anymore. Did he... Did you hear him try to say something to you?"Asked Wilson nervously.

"I don't kn- did you hear something?"Prodded Cuddy anxiously.

"I really don't know. It could've been him breathing, but... I don't know." Confessed Wilson drawing his eyebrows together. "It sounded kind of gurgley, and throaty, kind of like when he's upset, you know?"

"As soon as we get him down to the MRI, we can see if we have pain response, and- Wilson- you need to calm down." Wilson was pacing restlessly. "You need sleep-You _need_ to sleep, take a shower, and get a good meal in you. You're not doing House a service by making yourself sick!" Her voice was soothing, and her demeanor genuinely worried.

Wilson nodded, and rubbed the back of his neck with an open palm. "Foreman is bringing me stuff from Am-my apartment, and I'm figuring I can crash in the hospital bed over there. I'm sure the nurses wouldn't mind, right?"

Cuddy nodded; sighing heavily she plopped herself down into Wilson's chair, and gazed forlornly at House. "Do you think he's ever going to get better?"

"Knowing House, he'll put up the best damn fight you've ever seen, even if he doesn't _know_ he's doing it. " Snorted Wilson in a half-laugh. "You know, I bet he's going to kiss your ass for a week, and then go back to 'House' right like that." He frowned. "God knows he did that when I left..."

"He's sure a trooper. And, granted, he's an ass most of the time, but, Wilson..." Cuddy searched for the words, and even though it was exactly how she'd planned it to come out, she spoke. "You to have this weird bromance thing going on, and when you left... It was like you'd died, and he was grieving- in House's way, at least. You're the only _real_ friend that he has in this world. You understand him and his crazy deranged logic; no one else in this hospital does, hell probably his whole life!Wilson,without you he doesn't function. He bounces ideas off you when his team isn't there to help him- and you give him ideas. There are too many times for me to count that you've come to me complaining of him going all glassy-eyed as he solves the case in his head! He needs you to save lives, and whether you want to admit it or not, you need him to function like-well like Wilson!"

Wilson slumped down a little in his position leaning against the wall with a soft sigh. "You know, when I left that night, I didn't care what I'd said, as long as I didn't have to feel sad. Being angry at him and hating him was so much easier than knowing that he did all he could. I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier, it was kind of the same thing, you know? Life without him isn't the same, even if it might be easier. He's the peanut-butter to my jelly sandwich. Or vice-versa- it doesn't matter. Ha! I remember that time...." He trailed off into oblivion, his eyes sinking lower and lower as he slid down the wall a little. He jerked awake with a start, and sheepishly grinned. "I guess I am pretty tired..."

"I'll say. I'm dead tired, and I've been sleeping, albeit not well, but sleeping. You've been up for more than twenty-four hours!"

"I've been taking... cat naps!"Wilson half-heartedly joked defensively.

"Yeah, well, those don't count. Now, as soon as you take a shower- sorry, you _need_ one- you get some sleep. Or I'll be forced to take alternatives." Cuddy rose a brow and then smiled. "You know, I'm ashamed to say that I already tried. I slipped you a Lunesta in that coffee about an hour ago."

"I knew there was something in there!" Wilson smiled fiendishly. "That's why I switched our coffees."

"What!?" Cuddy groaned. "No wonder I'm so tired..."

"Cuddy, I've been House's best friend for a while now. You think I don't know when I've been drugged?"

"He's _drugged_ you?" Cuddy deadpanned.

"Oh, you know a little of this, a little of that." Wilson caved at the look Cuddy gave him. "He gave me some- er, uppers, to see if I was on anti-depressants...."

"What did he give you? And how did he-"

"Speed." Wilson groggily did the jazz hands as he'd done when arguing with House. "I yawned... _Yawned._ If I was on uppers and yawning, it meant I was on anti-depressants. Why the hell hadn't I thought about that? I bet he's drugged me before, you know... Sometimes things aren't quite right...Oh well, I guess he knows me well enough not to overdose me. Even if it is a _huge_ invasion of my privacy." The last sentence was directed to House, in the belief that maybe it would reach him 's eyebrows merely trembled in response. Wilson sighed.

"Do you think he can here us?" Asked Cuddy,pulling her gaze from House to look at Wilson.

"I have no idea. But I'm hoping he can. Otherwise, I'll feel pretty stupid when he wakes up."

"Why?" Asked Cuddy raising his eyebrows.

"Cuddy, I've been talking to him the whole time I've been here. If he wakes up and doesn't remember a word of it, I'll feel like a right fool. " Wilson's voice had its fighting edge back to it, its vibrancy and life for a moment-they were there, and it warmed Cuddy's heart to see him take passion in something again.

"Hey, Wilson, I've got your stuff."Foreman raised the items in question, and Wilson smiled.

"You don't know how much I'd love to hug you right now." Cuddy breathed. Wilson shot her an offended look and she reddened, murmuring apologies. "I'll let you get to your business. And make sure House gets that MRI, okay Foreman?"

Foreman nodded,"You know I won't." He smiled slightly as he readjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder, and Cuddy eyed it questioningly.

"What's that?" Questioned Wilson absently as he collected his bag.

"Oh, it's just some stuff for me and my team. We're going to town on this. Like it or not, we all need House. And we could all stand to be a _little_ bit like him, couldn't we?"

**Author's Note- Sorry I took so long, I just couldn't bring myself to stop! So you got a really long chapter as a reward or my ceaseless writing! :D Reviews are always wonderful, and I'd appreciate you to stick around for the next chapter and too offer suggestions. Also, do you think the fifth season of House is a little bit of a let-down? I saw it in a poll. Personally, I think it's fine, but I would like it to be more exciting and unpredictable. They need to lose a patient or something- with a totally common disease. It would be a total shocker!**

**Lauren/Mellokai**

**Review Please!--------  
**


	5. Stimulant

Voices slurred, blending and smoshing together as they appeared. The cavorted about, the voices leaping gracefully through the air, and crawling through the ground. The medicine made him hazy, and the voices were blurred around the edges, and ghostly like those that you'd here in a horror movie. Strange sounds, and the simple sound of air were distorted and they didn't flow properly through him.

Nightmares plagued House's dreams, and sour memories coated them with a razor sharp battering ram. They forced themselves into his subconscious, and they were always there. He could here the dreams playing over and over and over....He focused on Wilson's voice talking to him, even about the most mundane things. Jennifer Connelini in pediatrics delivered quadruplets;one serial killer was apprehended and the other one was still on the rise; Wilson's father was sick with the flu, and Wilson was scared for him. Wilson also talked about Cuddy. She'd been to see him everyday like clockwork.

House was perplexed as to the reason he couldn't hear her voice. He longed to here her voice, even if it had to be yelling at him for some stupid thing he'd done. It was sweet to him, and he liked the way it changed pitch when she yelled at didn't notice as the corner of his mouth pulled back ever so slightly. Wilson was too busy dressing the gash on House's forehead.

House recalled that his MRI said he had brain swelling in the cerebellum, and frontal lobe. The swelling in the cerebellum paralyzed him, leaving him in the position of being paralyzed until the swelling went down. Machines breathed for him, and IV's and tubes and wires stuck out of him like a crazy experiment. Swelling in the frontal lobe caused the memories in his brain to be scrambled, thus allowing the ceaseless playing of long ago repressed memories. There was also some slight bruising, as a result of the car crash and then enormous pressure on his brain.

He drifted in and out, and dreams and reality quickly slurred together, and more often than not he didn't know what was real. Earlier in the day he'd dreamed that Cuddy was handing him pills, actually handing him pills for his pain. Figuring it was a dream, he 'd let himself tell Wilson how he'd really felt about what happened with Amber. But then again, he didn't need to worry about it because, he now that he'd said it, even in his dream, he felt better and didn't need to worry about it so much.

* * *

Wilson stared at House, his face blank as he thought of Amber and how she'd gone. House wasn't in a coma anymore, at least not after they'd given him steroids to keep the swelling down, and a seemingly permanent flow of ice packs later, his brain was functioning a little more normally. He'd lucid enough to down some medication and talk to Wilson a litlte bit, though he obviously was obviously uninhibited in what he said.

Cuddy stared as she looked at the man she'd grown accustomed to being surly and unrefined. The glass walls he carefully constructed around himself so tight, so as to allow barely enough room to breathe had been shattered, and the pieces were landing scattered, everywhere in sight.

He'd talked on and on in seemingly useless shambles, but Wilson had recorded it and played it over and over on his cell phone till the battery went dead. She remembered him waking up from what seemed to be a violent nightmare with the declaration that he knew what House had said.

"He's sorry! He honest to God said he's sorry- and he meant it! He's obviously unable to control what he's saying right now!" Wilson smiled and then a guilty look crept through his features. "You know, he's like a brother to me, and when he told me that he really was sorry for her death... We were in my office and I just walked out on him."

"Wilson, you know he lies so much and is so sarcastic that you and I are the only ones who even come close to understanding the method to his madness-maybe we weren't meant to find out. " Cuddy smiled and looked wistfully at him, remembering all the times they'd come close to starting something and at the last minute he backed out. "He puts up this tough front, but the moment something serious comes up, and you have to ask him what he feels, he backs out. Because if he answers honestly, then you really know him. And that scares the living Hell out of him. Could you, uhm, give me some time alone with him?"

"Urm, yeah... Sure, I know I've been kind of walling up myself a little in here. Fresh air'll do me good. " Wilson's legs hadn't rested idly, tortuously through the past days and he was dying to take a walk, if not for the good excuse he had just gotten. He was going to walk the whole hospital, after a shower of course, and then see _all_ his patients and make sure they were doing well. He was after all, an ocolgist and they only had so long...

* * *

Cuddy stared at House's unmoving face, and with a gentle finger pushed his drooling lips shut. "God, you are _such_ a dork!" She chuckled as his brows furrowed at the sound of her voice. She wondered if the amount of drugs she had just given him would make him talk to her a little more freely. It hadn't been much, but hopefully it was enough.

"No, you are." His childish response came out muffled and blurry, but she didn't mind. She never though that she would be so glad to get a such a childish insult.

"Nope. _You're_ the one drooling on yourself." Cuddy rolled her eyes when he closed his eyes and stuck his tongue out at her. "Goofball. "

"Moron." Ah, the classic moron insult. She smiled and House opened an eye suspiciously at her silence. She rolled her eyes when he narrowed his at her open face.

"So... Where's Wilson?" There was a tinge of hurt in his voice, and Cuddy was quick to quash it.

"I kicked him out. He hasn't left for days, you know. I had to beg him to leave the other day to go get himself some lunch."Cuddy smiled when House's mouth twisted up in the corner.

"Really?" House's voice slurred a little, and Cuddy realized House was still out of it, and would obviously not be able to control himself if he talked to her. And she would, oh she would talk to him.

"Yeah. Were you glad he stayed with you?" Cuddy tested the words, speaking them as casually as she could.

"Mhm.... He never _did_ leave..." House closed his eyes and tilted his head back and bit his lips as a wave of nausea swept over him.

"You okay?" Cuddy sharply asked, leaning forward to help him with what ever it is he might unfortunately need.

House nodded yes, and held up a shaky wired hand to push her away. "Give me the garbage can." He gagged and clamped a hand over his mouth and his cheeks puffed out for a moment. Cuddy practically shoved the garbage can into his hands, and House promptly vomited the few contents in his stomach up,and dry heaved bile for a long three minutes.

Cuddy eyed him nervously, her worried expression creasing every few seconds with apprehension. Was he going to be okay? Did he pneumonia, or was it the flu? Before she could decide, House resurfaced from the small garbage can, and shot her that begged at her to mock him.

"Your Mom called, and she wanted to know how you were. She called you to tell you that she'd checked in at home, and said you never answered or called back, so..." Cuddy trailed off, unsure as how to end such a touch y sentence on an unwarranted subject.

"What did you-" House coughed a low, dry cough,"-tell her?" House demanded suspiciously, furrowing his brows in frustration.

"I told her you were in a car accident. I _didn't_ tell her you were in coma for a little while, because I knew you'd probably kill me if because they wanted to come down, but I told her everything was fine, even though she_ insisted._" Cuddy repressed a smile as his face relaxed ever so slightly.

"Good, that's the last thing I want. That idiot prowling around here and blaming m-" House cut off when he realized what he'd said. "I mean-"

"Your mother or your father?" Cuddy frowned slightly with the knowledge that he wasn't speaking as freely as Wilson had assured he'd been earlier.

"My fa-" With a frustrated growl House glared at her. "Stop asking me questions you already know the answer to!"

"I'm just checking brain function. You seem to be a little loose with your words, House." Cuddy smiled with the knowledge she was making his insides squirm, and all she had to was but ask him a simple question. There was an undertone of guilt for emotionally attacking him while he was in the hospital, but thinking back on all the pranks he'd done to her, it didn't feel so bad, or even remotely wrong. Just a little uncomfortable.

"You didn't think I noticed. Well, damn. Now I feel insulted." House rolled his eyes at her smirk, and stared forcefully at the ceiling. If he concentrated enough, the little lines in the ceiling panels began to dance. He hummed absently to their abstracting movements for a moment before catching himself.

Cuddy glanced up to the ceiling, searching for what he always seemed to see up there, but found nothing. Just square panels with the little decorative splotches and blobs of darker paint. They swam when she stared to hard, and she looked away to avoid the onsetting of a headache.

"So, why do you hate your Dad so much?"The question was spoken with a light casual air, with seemingly the only intention of a closer bond.

"He's not my- he's a bastard and that's all you need to know." House ground his teeth together, and looked around as if searching for an escape. His hand closed around the remote to call the nurse, House, making sure to make the movement discrete, slowly inched his hand back to his side as they spoke. His other hand lurched to his mouth as a cough rattled his thinner than usual frame.

"Hmm... So why is he deemed such a bastard in your book, House?" Cuddy leaned forward, obviously intrigued by House's lack of clever acrimonious comeback, and House leaned back a little so as to combat her closeness to him.

House's mouth clamped shut, and then burst open as he uncontrollably spoke. "He's a rotten father and he doesn't deserve to have kids! He's not even-" House jerked his hand up to cover his mouth.

"Not even what?" Pressed Cuddy, leaning unconsciously forward while she waited for a further explanation.

House furiously shook his head, and his knuckles turned white as he bit back his response. He pressed the button on the little remote hooked up to the bed, and Cuddy scowled as she rolled her eyes. "House, you can't run away from your problems like a four year old! Calling a nurse isn't going to help you. I'm the dean of medicine. I override their authority."

House's face visibly fell and he slumped against the pillows of the hospital bed, and let out a gritty sigh as he dropped the small remote to the bed side. House coughed hoarsely, and made a funny face in the process before glaring at her again. Cuddy smiled and nodded a satisfactory smile. "Now, tell me why-"

"I get to hold this against you, you know." House said with a mischievous glitter to his eyes. "I don't talk for nothing. I decide the payment." Cuddy sighed and then shook her head quickly, raising her hands in an air of compliance. "Now answer me."

"He was a drunk." House said shortly. "Now, I'd like... No clinic duty for a month after my leg heals." Cuddy opened her mouth in protest, and then snapped it shut.

"If you don't answer the _questions_ completely I will give you so many clinic hours they spill out your-"

"House!" Chorused Cameron, Chase, and Foreman as they all marched into the room, surprised to see House awake, much less bickering with Cuddy. Cameron smiled at him, and rushed to check his vitals.

"So, when did you wake up?" Asked Chase with a smile.

"Uhm... A little bit ago... And then _she_ started torturing me." House grumbled, glaring at Cuddy with a moody frowned as she checked his pupil response. His dilated pupils barely reacted, and he winced, turning from the light.

"Did you give him anything?" Cameron quizzed, raising a brow.

"Uhm, yeah..." Cuddy didn't look House in the eye as she spoke to Cameron.

"Well, what did you give him?" Cameron burst impatiently.

"A stimulant..." Cuddy bit her lip and looked Cameron in the face. Cameron scrunched her face up in a disgruntled growl of angry-ness.

"You can't just give him medicine willy-nilly!"

"But, on the bright side, it'll keep him up!" Smiled Chase cheerily, punching his arm forward in mock happiness. Cuddy rolled her eyes with a groan at the embarrassment of being caught.

"So, when do I get to go home?" Murmured House, his eyes closed as he rested the nearest to peacefully he'd been in a long time.

"In a few days. We need to be sure that this cold passes over,and that you don't relapse into your coma. So tell us if you get a headache- it could mean your brain is swelling. Other than that- I think you should be fine." Cameron smiled at House's drowsy gaze, and checked her board again. "It's almost dinner time. Wilson should be back soon, maybe you two can catch up."

House nodded, told them what he wanted, and slipped off to sleep, even against the slight edge of the stimulant. His morphine canceled out most of it, and he was able to sleep without dreams, for the most part,at least.

* * *

**Author's Note- So this is a slow ending, and I know, a kind of boring chapter, but it's a bit of a filler SO the next few should be more exciting. :) And, I threw a good amount of Huddy, at least enough to be real, and not too much to be fake. Please review! :) Enjoy! Suggestions or questions- you know what to do! **

**Lauren/Mellokai **

**Happy Valentine's Day!  
**


	6. Maybe Baby

House limped past Wilson, leaning heavily on his crutches. "You cleaned? How the Hell am I supposed to find anything?"

"It's all organized. I figured-"

"Now I'm going to have to find it all again! Next time, let _me_ tell the lady where everything goes..." House hobbled to the couch, leaned his crutches within reach of him, and then plopped down. Wilson's brows furrowed as he fought the urge to plop down next to him and watch TV for hours.

"Hey, uhm, I gotta go to work." Wilson gestured to the door with the point of a thumb. House nodded.

"See ya." House turned back to the TV before Wilson could say more, and left Wilson to his own devices.

"Bye..." With a slight click! The door closed, and for the first time in weeks House was alone-completely alone.

He'd grown accustomed to having someone there to talk to all the time, and loneliness settled around like a thick sheet of sludge. He was wading through it, and trying to find a spot not so deep, somewhere in his mind he wouldn't feel so rotten, but he never found one.

Groaning slightly, House lifted himself from the couch, and wandered back to his bed. The sheets were neatly smoothed out and tucked perfectly under it, not a wrinkle to be seen. House simply stared at it for a moment, a sick feeling rising in his stomach. Just to be safe, he grabbed the garbage can from his bathroom, and dropped it next to his bed, before carefully settling himself on top of the covers.

It was only noon, but he was whipped. His cold sapped all his strength, but he didn't feel like getting up to take the disgusting cough syrup that Cuddy had no doubt picked out for him. At least _she _wasn't being too nice to him.

He honestly didn't even know if he _could_ get out of the bed without having to role onto the floor, but he figured he would cross that bridge when he finally came to it.

It bothered him that he was alone now, and the fact that he'd gotten used to having people around made it worse. He was mad for letting himself get used to it, and try as he might he couldn't purge it from his head was pounding with ever pulse, and his right temple and the area around it begged him to pop another Vicodin, but it would fade soon. It was sort of like a boomerang the way it faded out of sight and then shot back into view. Right now it was in full swing.

It took him longer than he'd anticipated to fall asleep, and so he lie there thinking occasionally trying to grab his throbbing leg through the cast. When he couldn't he throw his head back and grimace, biting his lip til' he dented it with his teeth.

House grabbed blindly at the bedside table in the dark, and finally found his bottle of Vicodin. He didn't care if Cuddy thought he was an addict, because right now he hurt like hell. A little voice in the back of his head told him he was, and that he should lay off but he quashed it as he'd done so often before. The voice seemed to be a lot louder lately, when he was with other people, but when he was alone it was easier to ignore it.

The blinds were drawn, the lights turned off, and the bedroom door closed. It was almost dark in there, but light rays of light peeped through the blinds when the sun shone right in the sky. House didn't mind though, he stared at the ceiling, and projected his thoughts up onto them.

Soon, a picture would unfold and he could see it, and then watch it move. He never told anyone of this, because he knew they already thought he was crazy enough. Sometimes the pictures were just words, but either way it didn't matter. If the thoughts weren't in his head, or at least didn't seem that way it was easier to see them from an unbiased point of view.

Every so often he vomited, and then would turn back to the ceiling, and finish his thoughts. He didn't know when he fell asleep, but it wasn't until he'd been lying there for hours.

0o0o0o0o

When he woke up, it was pitch black, and his stomach was churning. He didn't have anything to throw up, and so he heaved bile until his stomach gave up, and simply ached something terrible.

House scowled as he carefully rolled over, and lowered his left leg to the solid floor.

It hurt to lift his right leg from the bed, and yet he forced himself to do it. Otherwise he'd never make it to the bathroom.

He took a pee, and then carefully bathed himself, making sure to get as he clean as he possible could without ruining his cast. He hated smelling dirty, but didn't mind getting dirty as long as there was a promise to be clean afterward. Wilson had once made fun of him for that, but House didn't mind.

House wandered out the kitchen, his leg throbbing the whole while. When he finally got there, he was so frustrated with the pain that he grabbed a spatula, and wrapped it in a towel to soften the sharp edges, and wedge it between the cast and his leg, and massaged his leg. He threw his head back and sighed at the relief of the pain, and smiled.

He could just imagine someone bursting through the door and catching him in the act, and wondered what he would say on such occasion. He shrugged it off, fixed himself a sandwich, and watched TV until the wee hours of the morning.

He slept on his couch, not wanting to go through the hassle of getting back into bed. He fell asleep with the remote in one hand, and the makeshift leg-massage in the other, still sticking out of his cast.

* * *

Cuddy stopped in to check on him the next morning, rolling her eyes when she found him on the couch. She repressed a smile, and simply watched him while he slept. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and then it spread to the other corner. She wondered absently what he was smiling about, and then dismissed it. She didn't have time to worry about such trivial things. She was supposed to be making him breakfast, not wondering if he was dreaming of her.

As she fried up some pancakes, her thoughts idled on his sleeping face. When he wasn't having a nightmare, or in pain, he seemed almost human; his relaxed face was even more handsome than his usual brooding features. Mystique was a good tone for him, but peaceful was downright gorgeous on him. Cuddy covered the pancakes in foil, and put them in the oven to keep warm.

Her hand was steady as she wrote him a little note detailing his breakfast's location, and she placed it on the table with a glass of water and two Advil. Just because he was in pain didn't mean he needed to do heavy-duty painkillers all the time, right?

She just the door quietly behind her, and then took off for the hospital. The drive there was slow, and traffic was moderate, but she was happy to arrive at the hospital. Today she was going to head to pediatrics to see a baby she was thinking of adopting. Her name was Rachel, and from the pictures she'd seen the baby was adorable.

She was having trouble conceiving, and had obviously lost all hope in having a child the 'good-old-fashioned-way' as House had mocked her before his accident. She wondered absently how he was doing, and if he was still sleeping, or if he'd started in on the pancakes. Would he even eat them at all?

The patient list wasn't long, and when she was halfway done, she handed them off to someone else, and went to see her hopefully future child.

* * *

House was flying, well, not actually flying, but was going fast enough to feel like he was flying. His legs churned, and he was covering the ground faster than a racehorse, and whizzing by the cars. He knew it was a dream, but he didn't care- he was running! And running, and running- he ran everywhere, and didn't care that it couldn't happen.

A sudden loud noise from his television woke him from his glorious dream, and he awoke to the numbness of Vicodin, and the light frosting of pain in his senses. With a grimace he sat up on the couch looking around with a disheartened groan. Grabbing his crutches, he noticed a small note in a curvaceous, girly handwriting. He snatched it up off the table, and half smiled as he read it.

House limped into his kitchen, and leaning carefully on one crutch, he bent down to open the turned-off oven and find his scarfed them down quickly, chasing them with milk before plopping back onto couch to stare at the TV for another hour.

Fed up with waiting around and being bored out of his mind, House grabbed his phone. "Hey, um, I'm coming in, alright? I'm bored out of my fucking mind."

There was a chuckle on the other end of the line, and a chorus of voices shouting hello, and asking him how he was. "I'm fine. I'll be there in a little while. Give me half an hour." And then he hung up, picturing their faces as he did so. He could just see them narrowing their eyes in anger. He chuckled to himself as he hobbled off to his room to change.

Getting dressed was awkward. He couldn't wear his usual jeans, so he ended up throwing on his pajama bottoms, and with a smile he checked himself out in the mirror. You could only just tell he had a cast under there. Other than that, he just look like a lazy doctor, too tired to get dressed. He smiled at that thought, and then threw on his coat. He jabbed a crutch at the TV, and turned it off. He half-smiled at his new found power. Crutches were longer than canes.

* * *

"Oh my gosh! I'm sooo sorry!" Laughed House as Wilson glared at him, sprawled out on the floor.

"House, if you're just coming here to wreak havoc, you can go home. We're having enough trouble as it is!" Wilson rolled his eyes when House mocked him with a pout. Heaving himself from the floor, Wilson dusted off his palms and lab coat.

"Aw, but Wilson that just bwakes my hawt!" House sounded like an overgrown four year old, and Wilson couldn't help but to loosen up. House smiled fiendishly when Wilson allowed himself a refined smile, and they continued onward.

"So, here are our options-" Started House, before plopping himself down into a chair.

"Are you alright?" Asked Cameron, jumping to her feet. Chase rolled his eyes at Foreman who smirked and nodded knowingly.

"I'm fine!" Snapped House, "Just a little dizzy..."

"I was just try-"

"Everyone's been trying to help me for over a week! I'm not a child- I _can_ do it myself." House glowered as he forced himself upward and over to his marker board. They discussed the problems with the patient for about twenty minutes in a heated debate as to whether or not it was this or that. (Sorry I'm too tired to go looking up medical issues! Besides, this case isn't important!) Then everyone filed out, leaving to run more tests, or go help out somewhere, or see if the patient was okay and might possibly need more medication.

House and Wilson stayed behind; House was already asleep in his uncomfortable chair, his head thrown back and his legs sprawled out in an attempt at comfort; Wilson was simply running through the case file one more time.

When Wilson looked up he was surprised to see House was already asleep. He shrugged his shoulders, and figured it was nothing. House snorted painfully in his sleep, his sore throat catching on the off-putting sound. House coughed a few times, and looked up groggily, his eyes and mouth opening and closing as he slowly woke up. House looked around for a moment, and then sank back into the chair with a loud groan.

"Tired?" House asked Wilson,not lifting his scruffy head from the chair.

Wilson shook his head, and continued shuffling through the file."I'm assuming you are..."

"Yeah... I don't think I can remember being this tired..." House murmured, already slipping back into sleep. Wilson opened his mouth to speak, but upon looking up he realized House had already crossed over again. With a sigh he packed his stuff up and left, leaving a note for Cuddy to make sure she checked in on him before she left.

Wilson was sure House was sick of him, and he didn't want to wear out his company. Cuddy was bugging him to let her spend more time with him, and Wilson was finally realzing that House was going to need someone who he could have fun with again in a verbal relationship. He and Cuddy were more open with each other, at least as open as House got with anyone.

Foreman jogged up to him, x-ray in hand, and a perplexed expression riddling his features.

"What's up?" Asked Wilson, furrowing a bushy brow in concern.

"House has old skull fractures, did you know that?"

"Yeah, he got them from the... accident with Amber, remember?"

"No, other ones. They were just assumed to be from that accident, but they're not- they're older." (A/N- I don't remember if this is true- I swear I heard it somewhere, so I'm going with it!)

The older fractures were thick where the bones had grown back over the hairline fractures, but the newer ones were still not all the way healed. And the brand new ones were definitely not healed, and they were larger than the other ones.

Chase wandered over to see what they were looking at, and upon closer inspection saw that they were from House's file.

Wilson looked up from the x-ray, and sighed. "He's never been in any other accidents, I asked him that as soon as he woke up. We need to fire the ER doctor who covered his x-rays. Where was Cameron when they were going over this?"

"Bringing a boy back from the dead!" Protested Cameron, stomping up to them. "Why are you talking about me behind my back?"

They both showed her the x-rays, and she groaned.

"We've been so busy with out other cases we haven't even had time to look over his charts. The old fractures, and the one new fracture explain things, but I don't know if they mean anything other than what they are. Maybe you're just reading too much into it."Shrugged Chase. He knew all about fathers with high expectations and a rough hand, but though _he'd _never had any real brain damage or skull fractures from his own parents, he was merely hoping out loud. He'd seen House's father in action, and was almost sure he was wrong.

"This could mean something.... But it's could be irrelevant, no matter what it explains about why he is the way he is."

* * *

House grumbled as he remained sprawled out in his chair, brooding over his life and wondering if the pain in his legs would be even worse after the bone _did _heal. He shoved the thought aside as he rose with the aid of his crutches, and he staggered over to the coffee maker to get himself a mug of coffee.

The steaming coffee cleared the fog in a his brain a little, and he didn't feel so rundown. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, at anytime of the day. His sleep was restless,and it didn't give him any energy at all. With a plop he sat back down, having already set his cup on the table so he wouldn't spill it.

He rubbed his aching temple, and a huff of pain escaped him. He couldn't remember if he taken the other medicine he was supposed to today. It was just so hard to think. He was trying to be positive, but it was kind of hard when everything reminded you of how unhappy you were.

House pushed off from the table with his palms, and turned to look at the marker board. He picked up the marker with a tremulous hand, and began to write down symptoms.

Depression

Motor-skills impairment

Disorientation

Headaches

Insom...

House's hand trailed off as he leaned tiredly against the markerboard, and he groaned...He chuckled slightly at the irony of the symptom he'd been writing. Insomnia. He was so damn tired he couldn't function- but when he tried to go to sleep he'd be awake for 's a bitch.

House blinked a few times when he heard his voice, and he felt like he was opening his eyes from a deep sleep.

"House! Is he okay?" House swayed slightly as his vision swayed into focus.

"I'm fine... I was just... thinking." Lied House slowly, his voice thick. "Where were we?"

"Um, you asked us to bring you a drill?" Frowned Thirteen.

"Huh?" House narrowed his eyes, and gave her an unbelieving glance.

"You wanted to..." Taub trailed off, but started up again when House wordlessly threatened to beat him with a crutch. "You said you wanted to unscrew you're head."

"I don't remember doing that..." House shrugged as the moment got awkward. "Must've fallen asleep."

"So, what have you got for me?"

"Kid has gastrointestinal bleeding." Informed Foreman. House nodded, and rattled of possible diagnoseses, and the team disagreed or agreed, and then they argued some more.

House did his best to look lucid and he soon became awake and alert, though he kept chugging coffee to make sure he stayed awake long enough to get through the day. He was unwittingly his sixth cup and apparently had overdone himself when Foreman asked him to ease up on the coffee. House glanced down at himself, and saw that his chest was heaving, and he could feel his facial muscles pulled back into a nearly psychotic grin. House reddened sheepishly, one of the first times they'd ever seen him do so, and he set the cup down. He'd been propped just so on his crutched so that he didn't have to use one of his hands.

House took a couple deep breaths, and slowed down enough to pay the slightest bit of attention to them. They finally left and he was free to roam the hospital.

* * *

An elderly woman covered her mouth as she coughed hearilty into her hankerchief, before helping her grandson off the floor. The small child was shoving everything within reach into his mouth, and he didn't seem to care what it was, so long as it was chewable to some extent.

He gnawed on his fingers for a moment before grabbing a toy block of the floor and drooling all over it.

"Maurine?" House's brows furrowed together as he tried to figure out what she was doing here. She looked up with surprise, and then smiled as she repressed a hacking cough.

"Gregory!" His aunt rose to her feet, and she cradled the struggling child in two arms before giving House an awkward hug.

"Hey, uh what are you doing here?" He asked, taking the baby she handed him.

"Little Jasie needed a baby-sitter, and I was visiting so..." House was subconsciously hurt that she didn't even consider coming to see him until she needed to be somewhere within distance of him. He unawarely furrowed his brow, and scowled.

"His names Jason, Mauri." House pulled his head back as the baby let out an icky formula burp, and held the baby out at arms length when it proceeded to burp and gurgle at him. "What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Burp it, Greg! I'm sick! Are you to grown up to help your favorite Aunt? After all, he is your_ cousin's_ child." House scowled. He had long ago confessed to her that he believe his real father was his Uncle Jerry, short for Jeremiah. She had hypothesized with him, listing all the existing clues on a giant chalkboard in her class room after school. Maurine had been the one who gave him the only positive encouragement to learn, and she had sat with him everyday going over solutions and possible outcomes of the whole ordeal.

Physical likeness, character traits, little quirks.... It had all been to close to tell. His father's brother was his only twin, and they were like paper glued together as children. But House's father had been the one who had been more emotionally susceptable to the horrible things that had happened over seas. Uncle Jerry had happier, and if he wasn't, he had Hell of a cover for it.

Even as a child, House had noticed the things in people that others hadn't, reading them and being able to know if they were lying. But lately, it didn't seem to be working so well. His thoughts had been cloudy, and he couldn't seem to function just right.

But all digression aside, House burped the child after throwing a clean hospital towel over his shoulder. "So, I'm supposed to watch this-"

"Him, Greg! And I forbid you to call him _it_ or- or, _thing_ _or anything inhuman you can come up with!"_

House griped before nodding taking off down the hall,the baby strapped to his back in an odd 'mobile home' as he refurred to it.

* * *

"Where is he?"Moaned Foreman, his head in his hands. He shook his head as if to clear it, and then looked up.

"I think I see him..." Murmured Kutner, his voice off-putting.

"Why- what's wrong?" Badgered Cameron.

"I think he's lost his mind...."

"Why?"

"He kidnappe a baby..."Suggested Kutner with questioning.

"He what?"

"I didn't kidnap a baby, you moron." House pushed the door open with a crutch, and limped inside, the baby giggling as he swayed, safely strapped into the carrier.

"Then who's that-"

"He. I've been forbidden to let anyone call _him_ anything inhuman." He rolled his eyes and snickered. "I've got a game for you."

"What is it?"Taub inquired interestedly.

"First one to not call him something other than he, him, Jason,- anything pertaining to human names- coughs up their bet to the pot. Anyone after that goes in double or nothing, and _anyone_who says anything pays the pile for each offence."House snickered to himself, knowing full well he'd take all the money. He lightened his voice carefully. "So, who's putting out tonight?"

"I'll put in twenty bucks." Shrugged Foreman.

"I'm not putting any in! It's obviously some convoluted plan to get him more money- he knows what he doing and I know there's a twist in there somewhere. We're going to get cheated out of our money."Objected Chase.

"Oh come on, he's so cute! House, whatever money _is_ won, _has _to go to the baby. Thirty." Pressured opened his mouth to object, then at the protesting fist of the child he paused.

"Did you see that?" House whispered.

"See what?" Chimed Taub.

"The-" House broke off. If he called the baby he, he would have ended up breaking the secret rule to the bet. Saying the baby was a boy, or calling it he, him, or any such name would break the clever rules of his bet. "I haven't placed my bet yet. I can still call him it for a little while. It understood! Didn't you see him?"

"Noooo...." Cameron eyed him wearily, and House rolled his eyes.

"Come on! You can't tell me you didn't see it- you were cooing all over him a second ago! Whatever. Fifty bucks." House slammed the bill down with a flourish, and stomped out of the room to his office. "You can obviously solve the case without me."

"What the Hell is his problem?" Muttered Chase.

"Chase! The baby can still here you!" Cameron interjected.

"Oh yeah, I'm just an imbecile- I don't have feelings." And with that he slammed the door behind him.

The others looked at each other curiously.

"Did we just... _hurt_ his feelings?" Wondered Foreman aloud.

"Yeah..." Replied Kutner with a smile. "Ha!"

* * *

"Where's House?" Asked Cuddy with an air of impatience.

"He's babysitting his cousin's kid. His aunt is sick, so she dropped him off here."

"His aunt was _supposed_ to be babysitting, but now _House_is babysitting?" Wilson nodded and Cuddy chuckled hysterically. "You actually left _him _with a _baby_!?!"

"He's not completely incompetent with babies, Cuddy!" Wilson chased after the now running Cuddy, and cursed as he tripped over an empty wheelchair.

Cuddy paced in the elevator as she rode to House's floor from the top one she'd been helping out on, and froze when she looked into the glass windows.

House was giggling as the baby shook the rattle in his stood shock still for a moment, and then hid behind a gurney as he laughed as the baby's silly expression. Cuddy couldn't believe that the man she knew to be an asshole was giggling like a child with a baby in his hands. Those words did not belong in a sentence together! At least so she'd thought....

Wilson rounded the corner, and yanked the door of House's office open, his chest heaving. House jumped nearly six inches out of his chair before settling painfully back down into it, his hands clutching the child close to him. At the realization someone was watching him, House held the baby out to Wilson.

"Take i-him. I've been stuck with him all day. I think I'm losing my mind." House let out a low breath as he leaned back into his chair. "So... What do you want?"

"I- me? _I _don't want anything. Cuddy did. She was around here somewhere..." Wilson looked around, and he saw her hiding behind the gurney, and paused for a moment before turning back to House, wondering if he saw the pause. "I don't see her anywhere."

"Really? I coulda swore I saw her behind that gurney." Deadpanned House, wincing as he rose from his chair awkwardly. He moved to find her, but Wilson blocked his way.

"Hu-uh, pal. No way you're leaving me with this thing!" He held the baby back out to House, who rolled his eyes.

"He's a _baby_ Wilson, not a _thing._" He mocked with a sardonic grin.

**Author's Note- Geez this has to end somewhere- might as well end it here, huh? Well I hoped you liked this excrutiatingly long chapter! Review, and any guesses as to what is wrong with House? Muhahah! You'll find out soon enough! Lol. Till next time!**

**Lauren/Mellokai**


	7. Play Date

"House, you need to get an MRI." Badgered Foreman, chasing after House as he wobbled away.

"I'm fine! And besides, I don't have time." House pointed with a smirk to the baby riding along on his back. "I've been getting digits from _all_ the hot girls, you know. I guess the 'singly Daddy look' is sexy on me."

Foreman shook his head in exasperation, though a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "Look, I'm going to schedule you for one in three days, okay? Just- be there..."

* * *

House groaned as he sat up, the sound of Jason's inane crying loud in his ears. With a grunt he lifted himself from the bed, and waddled over to the small play-pen that made for a makeshift crib.

The crying ceased immediately as he lifted the infant into his arms, and House almost had to smile. He wondered if _his_ father had ever even held him as a child. He pushed the thought from his mind, and cradled the babe in one arm as he used a single crutch to hobble to the kitchen.

At the beep of the microwave, Jason gurgled delightedly. The warm bottle was met with eager fingers, and after a moment of careful supervision House turned to make himself a snack.

Jason gurgled loudly, announcing the absence of his milk, and House idly patted him on the back, only grimacing slightly as Jason burped spit-up onto his shoulder. He was getting used to carrying a towel around on his shoulder, just for these occasions. Well, when he was home at least.

Jason sighed drowsily as his guardian picked him up, and leaned his head onto House's shoulder. House carried him to the bathroom, and selected the small rubbery toothbrush, and the fluoride-free toothpaste. He gently squeezed a tiny amount out of the tube, and gently brushed the little boy's two teeth. He was already eating squishy baby foods, and House didn't want his little teeth to be rotten. Brushing never started too young, in his opinion.

Jason was soon in his crib again, and the moment House turned away to go back to sleep, he began to wail. House turned around, an incredulous expression plastered to his features.

'You have got to be kidding me....'

* * *

Cuddy knocked loudly on the door, ready to bust House's chops for coming in late to work, and she was itching for a reason to baby-sit the little cutie House had been hauling around everywhere.

She knew that his Aunt had been supposed to be watching the baby while the parents were on a cruise for another month, but she had gotten 'sick' with something about half-way through it. She was a very ... elderly lady, for lack of better word on Cuddy's part. She wondered if the only thing Maurie had gotten sick of was the baby.

When House didn't answer, she slid in the spare key she had commandeered from Wilson, and pushed the door open with a hearty heave. A large stuffed animal had barricaded her way, but now lay sideways on the floor, one arm outstretched as if trying to get away.

Cuddy nervously pushed the door the rest of the way open, and forced herself inside. She was expecting the place to be ransacked, and House to be murdering the baby in frustration. She honestly didn't believe it, but she was worried that he couldn't handle taking care of a child on his own, much less with the fact that he was in a great deal of pain.

But she didn't see what she had generally expected. The place of course did look like a bomb had gone off, but that wasn't what surprised her. House was sleeping on the couch, his right leg propped up, and his other leg dangling off the side. Jason slumbered peacefully on his chest, his little mouth leaving a spreading pool of dark slobber on House's shirt. House's hand rested gently on the baby's back, as if to protect him from something. For once, his facial features seemed to be happy, but a purer happiness, with the raunchiness excluded from thought.

Cuddy snickered lightly at the thought of what he would do to her when he found out what she'd done. She had taken a picture of him, and then another. Selecting the best of the two, she'd forwarded them to everyone on the team, new and old, and sent one to Wilson. As an after thought, she sent one to House's mother. He was doing all right.

She gently closed the door, being careful to not make a sound House grunted slightly at the cool air that had crept in, and then slipped all the way back into his deeper sleep.

* * *

"Hey, I just got a text from Cuddy. I think she knows where House is." Announced Foreman, flipping open his gray cell phone. His breath caught as he blinked in confusion. Then he snickered, and burst into laughter.

"What?" Asked Kutner, eager to share the laughter.

"You're not gonna believe this! Check your phone-" Kunter whipper out his phone, and flipped it open. With a snort, he viewed the message, and giggled like a child. And so on the message was forwarded, and forwarded, until it would soon be spread around the hospital. Of course, there was a note at the bottom forbadeing anyone from mocking House, or even mentioning it to knew House didn't know the picture was taken, and were wondering how they could rub it in, when in walked Wilson, his face sticky with sweat.

"We've got a problem. Patient is having an episode." Panted Wilson. "Bad reaction to the meds. Get House... In here... now!"

* * *

House started awake at the loud pounding on his door, and looked around hazily, and then down at the still baby on his chest. He stuck a finger under his little nose, exhaling with relief as the warm huff of breath washed over his finger.

He carefully set Jason on the other end of the couch and painfully swung his leg over the baby, evidently trying hard to not disturb the slumbering form. House worked his way around the piles of toys and general mess, and then yanked the door open as wide as it would go. The large animal was stuck under the door, and House anke heartily at it to get it out of the way.

"Why don't you answer you're phone?" Barked Chase. House looked up slowly, sleep still dragging his eyes downward.

"Mhf."Grunted House with dismissal as he wobbled back into his living room, wobbling with the use of his crutch.**(A/N- Not guaranteeing the realness of these symptoms. Came up with it in two minutes, and jotted it down. So- I do study medicine, even though I'm obviously still a kid, but I don't study to much medicine like this. Usually psychology, etc. ANYWAY! Enjoy! And don't believe this is true!)  
**

"Patient is presenting with psychosis, presumably caused by the drugs we gave him, but he has no signs of allergy, and any other medicine isn't taking!" Reported Taub.

"What did you give her?"

"Just something to sedate her for the surgery!" Blurted Thirteen, her face swiveling around to take in the dishevled residence.

"Foreman, do you remember worm girl?" Said House slowly, his eyes closed as he lay quietly in his chair.

"Yeah, B-12 defiancy, because the worm sucked it all up. You don't think _he's_ got a worm, too! That's highly unlikely!"Remarked Foreman.

"Not a tapeworm, no... But a different kind of parasite. He is not.. A he..."

"House, you can't go to sleep, you bastard! And, what do you mean he's not a he?"

"He is a she. And _she_ is pregnant. Not getting the right vitamins, because the b-baby is stealing it. Get her on some vitamins, and tell her to lay on off the pot. It'll screw up the baby."

No one even noticed the slight stutter, but Chase simply retorted with:

"How do you know he's not-"

"Files. Wilson faxed them to me. I didn't _need _to come in. I just needed to sleep on it."

House tossed Taub the file, and he opened it up. House's unruly scrawl was clearly displayed on the papers, and he had circled, and calculated, and rewrote everything. He had just been waiting for them to come out to see him.

"She-he-it's just hormonal. Got a sex change, and apparently has been to high to remember to take their medication. Seems Mommy and Daddy didn't support their drug isn't crazy like everyone else thought, and not dying like we thought. End of Story. Now go away."

"Okay,and House?" Started Chase.

"Yeah?...."

"Baby needs his diaper changed." House looked up, his face stricken, then it smoothed out easily.

"Would anyone mind? I need a break from the endless diaper flow. My garbage cans are overflowing... He takes tiny little poops and expects me to change everyone. Little pain in the ass."

"Sure. I will." Everyone gave Kutner shocked looks. "What? I had to babysit to make my own money, you know! I was the only kid in the neighborhood to have to earn his money! And it's paid off, you know."

Kutner picked the baby up, and changed the diaper in record time. House gave him an appraising look and nodded with a smile.

"Thanks. I honestly couldn't bring myself to change it. I just woke up. "

"We know."Smiled Chase, and Foreman elbowed him with a large smile. House eyes them suspiciously, and then dismissed the thought.

"Now shoo! Why are you even still here? Patient's going to kill the baby if you don't get going!"

House looked down at Jason as the doctors left, and he sighed. There was a nagging feeling in his stomach, and yet he was repressing it. He knew what the feeling was, and that was why he desperately didn't want to acknowledge it. He'd make a horrible father, at least in his own opinion.

Jason murmured baby-talk in his sleep, and House sighed. He'd never know anyway... who'd want _his_ kid?

* * *

Cuddy tapped nervously on the wheel of her steering wheel as she pulled into the hospital, and scowled when she realized a car was in her parking spot. She groaned and parked next to her spot, and wrote down the number on the license plate. Just in case....

She wondered if House was going to come bursting into her door today, or if he was just going to stay home. Sighing, she picked up her cell, and hit his number on speed dial. Number one.

"House?"

"What? I'm wrist deep in explosive baby poo!"

"Just because you're with Jason doesn't mean you don't have Clinic duty."

"I can't take him in there! He'll get sick-"

"Nope. _I'll _watch him. " Declared Cuddy triumphantly.

House faltered on the other end of the line, and Cuddy knew she'd won. "I'll be in in a while..."

"No, not in a while. An hour."

"But-"

"An hour, House." And with that, Cuddy gleefully hung up, and leaned against her office door with a smile. Even now she still had the upper hand over him.

* * *

House griped under his breath as he forked over Jason, his hands feeling oddly empty when the baby was gone. Cuddy smiled, and House made a childish face at her.

"Hey, House," Called Cuddy after him as he turned to leave, "Wanna have a play date later? For Jason, I mean-"

"He doesn't _have_ to come, you know. I could call Cameron. I'm sure she'd _love_ to-"House jerked a finger over his shoulder, as if to explain something, thought Cuddy didn't understand what.

"Yeah, I think I'd like that." Cuddy smiled, and blushed slightly. "You know, he looks kinda like you, even if that's weird, and impossible." House's eyes narrowed for a moment as he thought, and then he smiled his crooked smile, the slow one that Cuddy swooned over.

"Thanks, I guess." House turned to leave again, the smile stretching across the other half of his face as he neared the exam room. He glanced over his shoulder as he nudged the door open, and Cuddy was smiling and giggling with the baby.

"Doctor?" House turned to the patient, and the moment disappeared. _Back to work, Greg,_he thought to himself.

* * *

The day had been long, for the hopeful thoughts of a 'fun' evening out, and the both of them had longed for the day to be over.

House wasn't sure of what to do, so he called Cuddy and asked her what she wanted to do.

"Well, whatever you _usually_ do." She offered, and he could practically see her shrugging in compliance.

"But I don't do anything..... usually." Replied House, his voice twisting a little in what she assumed to be embarrassment.

"Well, you're a busy man, House. How about.... Movies?" Cuddy was grasping at strings she couldn't see, and she didn't know what he'd want to do, of all the people she knew. Well, she had a theory, but she didn't want to seem crude.

"Alright, you pick, though. I'm having trouble making up my mind lately." Admitted House, though his voice was somewhat pleasant.

"Okay." Just before he hung up, Cuddy asked,"Hey! Can we, uhm, get some coffee or something before the movie? And just talk... I haven't seriously _seen_ you since, you know... well..."

"Yeah... Sure. I think I might actually like that. I got used to having my wing man around all the time, and now it's kind of weird, ya know?" Cuddy was a bit taken aback at his sudden openness, and wondered if it would last into the evening.

"Yeah. I totally get it. So, uh, when should I come get you? You really shouldn't drive that motorcycle around, with uhm..." She trailed off, so as to not sound condescending, and House smiled into the phone. Leave it to her to make _him_ feel awkward. That was his job!

"Whenever." Cuddy could hear the slight chuckle in his voice as he hung up, and she groaned. She felt like a teenager again! How could she have said _that _of all things???

* * *

House sang along with the radio, and Cuddy didn't say anything. It wasn't the fact that it bothered her, but that she was almost afraid he would stop if she _did_ say anything. After a while he looked over at her,and nudged her with elbow.

"Does my singing bother you?" He asked, his lips pulled in with his eyebrows raised in a questing yet oddly playful face.

"No, I like it actually." Cuddy smiled at him, and House half grinned before looking down to fiddle with the seat. He almost shouted as it jerked back, and he was in reclining position. Cuddy laughed, and he looked over at her, his face impassive.

"What's so funny? You're the one who's car is broken!" House argued, sitting up with an exasperated breath.

"I've known it was broken! I just didn't think you'd want to lay back." Pointed out Cuddy, her face smug with satisfaction. House sarcastically smiled along with her, before giggling a little.

He fiddled with the radio, and settled up on a jazz station, then a minute later changed it to an obnoxious alternative station.

"House!" Intervened Cuddy when a particularly dirty song came on.

"What? Too dirty?" Asked House innocently.

"No! But it sucks. And- I've heard nastier." She said with a sparkle in her eye. House raised his brows appreciatively and casually flicked the station to a rock and roll one. Cuddy nodded approvingly.

They arrived at the little coffee shop on the corner about ten minutes later, and Cuddy helped House out of the car, even though he had modestly claimed he could do it himself. After seeing him struggle for a minute, she'd reached over and gave a hearty yank, and almost sent him sprawling over the ground.

"Sorry!" She'd whispered nervously.

And now they sat, sipping coffee with nervous hands; House was reading the back of the desert pamphlet while Cuddy browsed the newspaper for the upcoming movies.

"You know, when I was little, until my thirteenth birthday, my Dad would take me to this little waffle house on my birthday, and I'd get to drink coffee and order whatever I want." Murmured House out of nowhere.

"Really? My mom used to take me to ice cream shop!"Laughed Cuddy. "I still go sometimes, though she doesn't come anymore..."

"Neither does he... He always used to order the chocolate-chip pancakes, and he'd get a chocolate smoothie with whip cream and sprinkles. He was always happy on my birthday, always made sure of that." House smiled to himself. "Did you're Dad, uhm, drink?"

"Yeah, but he gave it up when I was little. Mom threatened to leave him. Other than that,I was pretty much a happy little kid." Shrugged Cuddy.

"My Dad died yesterday." It was almost a whisper, and Cuddy stared at him, blind-sided.

"W-What?"

"Yesterday. My mom called me, and-" House sucked in a big breathe, "And she said that he'd had a heart attack in the middle of the night. Apparently he'd been ready to go. Wrote out a will, and... then when he stopped taking his heart medicines..." House's voice had taken on a little of the vibrancy he usually had when he was diagnosing someone, though now it seemed kind of flat.

"Well, how does that make you feel?"

"I don't know. I can tell you this though, I'm not going to the damn funeral. " House's voice had hardened over once more,and that was the end of not for Cuddy.

"House! You have to go to your father's-"

"I don't' want to talk about it Cuddy." Cut in House, his firm voice a clear indication.

Cuddy sighed, and dropped the subject, rolling her eyes when House ordered a sundae, and ordered her a mega-super-swirly. She had no idea what it was, bur she knew had good taste in junk food.

House stared at his fingers for a moment before sighing loudly, and stretching out his leg. He hiked up his pajama bottoms and wedged a butter knife in between the plaster and his skin to rub his leg.

"House!" Cuddy fought back the urge to shriek in disgust, trying to avoid embarrassment.

"What? I'm itchy."House innocently rose a brow, and shrugged his shoulders a little before going back to his leg.

"SO? You can't do _that_ in _public!_" House laughed, and continued doing what he was doing. Cuddy rolled her eyes, and sank lower into the seat, covering her eyes with her hand. If he kept this up, this would probably be the awkwardest date she'd ever been on. She was still worrying about what he'd said about his father, but she figured she'd check up on that before they left for the movies. She was going to call his Mom. Was it so awful that she wished he _wasn't_ lying?

* * *

The movie was long for Cuddy, but House loved it. It was a romantic comedy, and it was obvious more than ever the whole time that she was obviously never going to have a blockbuster romance. The man she liked, well, more obviously secretly loved- was giggling and watching a romantic comedy while his father was being embalmbed. And he cared, she knew that. She just wondered how good of an actor he really was...

The movie was almost over, and Cuddy was getting slightly hyper off of all the soda she'd been sipping on. House had bought one for her, and one for him, and she'd drank both of them. She knew she'd have to pee like a racehorse sometime that night, but she didn't care. It was all she could do to beg him to get out of there.

But before long, the credits were rolling, and she was off to the potty, to pee like she'd never peed before. When she came out later, House remarked that she'd actually been pretty fast.

"Huh?"

"Well, that much soda can only travel _so fast, _ya know." Pointed out House with a crooked smile. Cuddy pushed him away playfully, and rolled her eyes.

"House, you are such a dork!" House opened the door for her, and she hopped into the driver's side, not quite understanding the odd set of manners, but knowing that somehow they fit the situation.

* * *

"House, we're gonna be late for work..." Cuddy elbowed House,and he sat up, his arm flailing as he woke up.

"Huh?" House looked around, and then plopped back as he remembered where he was.

"We're gonna be late for work!"

"Oh... okay." House grunted as he got up to get dressed. "You know-"

"Don't even start with me, House." Groaned Cuddy. "Just get dressed."

Cuddy showered while House made himself some cereal. He didn't figure on going anywhere without a car. So why rush?

**Author's Note- Hope you liked it! And yay! Hudddy! What did ya think? Reviews _are _appreciated, but not mandatory, and anyway- stay tuned for more! :D  
**

**Lauren/Mellokai  
**


	8. Free

The baby gurgled absently into his chest as he flipped through channels. Jason sure was a dependent little baby. He wondered if that was because his parents were off on honeymoons all the time. House snickered at the thought of his cousin being a romantic fool. He knew it had to be the wife's idea- his cousin was like a brick, an emotional linebacker unless you knew him since birth.

He turned the TV off with a remorseful click, and tried to lull himself to sleep with a simple tune, for the fact his i-pod was too many feet away to grab it without waking baby. After an almost bearable hour of staring at the ceiling, watching cartoons roll by, he fell asleep, into a dreamless sleep.

When he awoke the next morning, everything was spinning, and he couldn't quite focus. He pushed the matter from his mind, and got the baby ready, as he usually did. He burned himself heating up oatmeal on the stove, and he swore in his head, randomly shouting 'pogbottom!' in place of a usual swear. Jason giggled in response,and House ignored him for once. He sucked on his pinking thumb and then poured his oatmeal into his bowl, throwing the pot with a clang into the sink. Jason giggled, and House rubbed his temples wearily.

Wilson showed up about ten minutes later, just as House was getting ready to call him. House shrugged into his coat and helped Jeremy into his.

"You alright, House? You look a little flushed."

"Uhm, yeah. Just got a ..." House waved a hand around as he searched for the word.

"Headache?" Asked Wilson, raising a worried brow as House nodded. "That bad?"

"Like you wouldn't believe." House looked away for a minute, squiting into the darkness."Alright, let's go."

As he closed the door behind him, he glared into the dark, searching for the being he'd seen only a minute ago. But it was gone.

* * *

House's head lolled to one side as he fell in and out of sleep, jerking awake intermittently. Wilson's eyes strayed from the road every so often to House, and he smirked, thinking that House was trying to doup him into believing he was sick, but not today.

"House, we're here."Wilson shook House on the shoulder, his pressure firm and strong on his shoulder.

"Ahm up..." House slowly pulled himself from the car, and looked sadly at Jason in the back seat. "Can you carry him in for me?" House didn't explain himself, but rather started swinging back and forth on his crutches toward the hospital doors. Wilson sighed and gently pulled Jason from his car seat and jogged lightly to catch up with House. House was moving very slowly today. Wilson shrugged it off, figuring he was just covering so he wouldn't have to do work.

"You okay House?" Asked Wilson, testing to see if House was lying. He was getting good at telling. Cuddy'd given him pointers.

"Yeah," Shrugged House slightly as he limped past Wilson through the door. "Just a little tired. I don't feel quite right today..."

"Yeah?" Wilson smiled at Jason who latched onto his finger with a little hand. Jason smiled, playfully batting him gently and in reponse Wilson cooed gently.

"Yeah. I think I'm so tired I'm sleeping awake." Laughed House grogilly as he limped past Cuddy, who looked up pointedly.

"House! You've got work-" Cuddy faltered at the sight of House swaying a little in his crutches. "House? Are you okay?"

Her words slurred heavily in House's ears, the sound growing large and mechanical. "You dosed me didn't you?"

"Whaaaat?" The words were slow and droning. "Nooo."

"Then what's wrong with me...?" House didn't even know if he'd spoken that out loud. All he could remember was the world tilting to one side, and the jerking to the other. Was he dreaming? That was it, he'd fallen asleep at his desk. Where was he now? It was dark, a little too dark. So he must be at home, then. But he couldn't feel his bed sheets. Come to think of it, he couldn't feel anythign at all. Where the hell was he? It didn't set in until a moment later that he truly couldn't feel anything anymore. House looked down, and he could see himself glowing. He yanked up his pajama's pant leg and laughed. There was no scar. He was dreaming all right. And he loved this could hear someone calling to him, and he turned around.

"Hello?" He called out, his blue eyes searching the black for something, someone- _anyone._Maybe this dream wasn't _so _great.

_House!_ The voice called again. House looked around. He recognized that voice."Hello!?" He yelled, raising a brow when nothing happened."Answer me!"

_House! Wake up! _"No! I like this dream...." House trailed off idly, and imagined himself at his home playing the piano. He remembered his Momma's old piano that he'd learned to play on, and he wondered if it was still playable.

Physical feeling manifested itself, and he was sitting on a piano bench, staring at the sheet music he'd learned to play with so long ago. He looked around, studying the room he hadn't seen in up to look around, he spotted himself sitting in the corner, his small hand clutching a pencil and gleefully scribbling across music paper. Ah, the music. He'd remembered writing that song.

House peered over his shoulder, and smiled. It had been for his mother's birthday when he was nine. "Nice work, there kiddo." The boys shoulders stiffened for a moment and the boy looked up at him. House faltered slightly at staring into his own face. It'd been so long since he'd seen that face. Years...

"Thanks." It was barely a whisper, and then House watched as he turned back to work again.

Blythe waltzed in with drinks of lemonade and a plate full of cookies, passing right through House to set them on the table. House looked at the table in the corner next to the large recliner; the cookies gave off such a sweet smell, and House couldn't help but take a bite of one. When he picked it up, the cookie curiously split in two., providing him with one and leaving the other. Then the other slowly disappeared, fading away.

As House bit into the cookie, he began to ponder. Why could he see himself, but not his mother? Could anyone else see him? Why couldn't they see him?

* * *

"Oh my God! House! Wake up!" Cuddy slapped him on the cheek, and House's eyes didn't flutter in the slightest.

"Hey! We need nurses, now!" Nurses rushed in and Wilson pulled Cuddy back as the rushed him away."There's nothing you can do! He needs medical attention! Not assault and battery,"Wilson's brow furrowed and he groaned." I knew he didn't feel good. I thought he was just trying to get out of work..."

Cuddy pulled herself free of Wilson's grasp and glared at him. "You knew he was sick! Wilson- he's in crutches, and his hours are already cut in _half_! He's a good liar, but he's not _that _good an actor!" And with that she stomped away from, her heels click clacking angrily across the floor.

Wilson swallowed his guilt, glancing down at little Jason. Jason trembled slightly, but he smiled hopefully to Wilson. Wilson smiled wearily, one corner of his mouth turning up saddly. "It'll be okay, buddy. House'll be fine." _I hope._ He sucked on the inside of his lower lip, and then he took off at a fast walk, his destination planned.

A tired arm pulled open the glass door, and Wilson stepped inside the diagnostic room, and four faces turned to look at him.

"Where's House?" Foreman looked around behind Wilson, his eyebrows rising in confusion.

"Well, here's the thing..."

* * *

"Rain, rain... Go away, come again another day...." The frail little voice sang softly to itself, the little boy it belonged to quivering with cold as he studied the ceiling of the doghouse.

House watched expressionlessly, his eyes focused. The little boy scratched at the rough carpet of the doghouse. House vaguely remembered his mother putting that in there on a Tuesday night when his father was out at work. He smiled that smile, where the corner of his mouth curled up to one side. No matter what, she was always on his side, even when he did something wrong.

Younger House, shall we call him Gregory? Gregory giggled as he stared at the ceiling where he'd long ago doodled pictures with his pocket knife. House remembered coloring them in with paint, filling the lines carefully, and lying out napkins the drip wouldn't stint the carpet.

There was a cartoon puppy in one corner, its little eyes rounded and joyful. They had a dog house, but no dog to fill it with, and so Gregory had made his own. He didn't mind not having a dog- he hated cleaning up the dog poop. He was content to have the little stuffed animal, and colorful cartoons. He traced the cartoon puppy with a lazy finger, his smile curving to one side.

There was a horse in the other corner, the same one he rode whenever he went to his Uncle's house. It was _the_ Uncle, the one he suspected. House remembered in that instance that he missed old Flapjack,and his big face, and smooth palomino coat.

A picture of his father was taped to the ceiling, and House couldn't for the memory of him remember why. Gregory traced the edges of the pictures, and then drifted to the large one on his mother, who had almost a whole side dedicated to her. Flat palmed, Greogry felt the picture.

Gregory stared at the ceiling, his eyes glazing over slightly as he imagined the pictures moving. He grew drowsier, and even House could see the pictures move. It was his dream, wasn't it? They danced in a musical formation, humming and singing, others chanting. Gregory and House hummed along, smiling in unison as the show drew to a magnificent end, and the world faded to black sleep.

House smiled, to think that he was dreaming of sleeping. The mind was a funny thing. It was funny, he couldn't even remember how he ended up here, in this strange dream. Honestly, he couldn't even remember if he was dreaming; he couldn't remember very much else at all.

**Author's Note. I hope you guys like it! Reviews are lovely, and I'll keep posting if you keep reading. Kudos to anyone who realizes what has happened here, and what caused it! Any takers? Truths will be revealed- NEXT CHAPTER! Wait shouldn't be that long! :D**

**Lauren/Mellokai  
**


	9. Loves me Not

"It was a slow bleed, but it was a steady flow. He's got a lot of pressure built up, and he's going to need surgery to repair the vein." Wilson sucked on his lip as he eyed the chart.

"I should've got him in here sooner. I was supposed to give him an MRI today, and we would've seen it." Foreman's head dropped into his hands. "What else is wrong?"

"Well, he could have some brain damage." The sucking in of anxious breaths was unanimous, and Wilson's lips pressed into a thin line. "It's just a possibility. His brain has been bleeding for a a few days now from what we've deduced on the charts, and with the speed and extent of the bleeding, that means the pressure wasn't strong enough to do _that _much damage. But, due to the fact that his brain went for a week with less oxygen than it needed, he might have memory loss, and he could be a little .... off- when he wakes up."

"How could we not notice? I mean he _was_ acting weird... I knew something was up when I saw that picture." Chase shook his head, and stared into the corner where Jason giggled in the little play pen that had been set up for him.

"Regardless, if we miss something, we may not have much chance to see him acting weird again. His body can't take it, weak as it alread is. We can't afford to miss anything, otherwise, he dies. And that means many more will die without him to solve the case." Wilson's worlds settled uncomfortably around everyone, and more than one person realized that Wilson hadn't even mentioned the fact that he would miss House, too. But the only response he recieved was the ruffle of paper and the sound of people getting to work.

It wasn't the exact response he'd wanted, but it was good enough. Wilson leaned against the marker board and stared out the window, watching as the clouds rolled by as the rain poured down. It seemed fitting that it should be raining.

* * *

"Hey wait up, kid!" House huffed, jogging against the wind as he chased himself down the slippery slope to the river.

"I can't leave you, you know." Remarked Gregory, halting his run as he turned to look behind him. "I'm the only one who can even see you, or hear you. If we're the same person, then you can't really expect others to see _you_ unless they can't see me." House narrowed his eyes. It really was unsettling to have such wonderful logic thrown at you by a person more than half your age. Maybe that was why he'd always felt a little... different. At least he wasn't a creeper.

House watched himself yank the boc of music from his clubhouse, a small hut-like structure he and his best friend had made so long ago. It was low to the ground, and here in this little valley it got very flooded whenever it rained like this. House couldn't remember the exact moment he was experiencing, but rather felt he should. There was the vague pressure behind his eyes telling him he should remember, that he _did _remember, but just didn't know what he remembered. In other words, his brain remembered. But _he _didn't.

* * *

"House...." Cuddy would whisper the words every so often, tugging fondly at a strand of his hair. It was almost as if she was asking him to wake up, but it wasn't that he couldn't, or wouldn't, but rather that he didn't even know he was gone. He couldn't remember what had happened to him, but was stuck inside his head. Cuddy wondered if he thought about her, and if was exactly what he was thinking about. Their 'encounter' as she referred to it inside her head. A wry smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, and she almost laughed. It didn't matter now.

He'd finally opened up to her, but the only thing uninhibbiting him enough to actually open up and allow himself to feel was a brain-bleed. That said so much about his possibilities for change, and the dreams she'd have of someday changing him into this better, humane, version of himself. Somewhere in her soul, Cuddy knew that no matter how much House healed, and overcame obsticles, he never would feel completely whole again.

She didn't look up when Cameron walked through the door, looking wistfully at Cuddy's sorrwful form. "You know, he never really loved me... It was always somebody else..." Cuddy looked up, and Cameron stared her directly in the eyes. "And I think it was you."

"Me?" Cuddy blinked, and shook her head a little in shock, her mouth agape as she implored Cameron to go on.

"Yeah. He and Stacy had a thing, and it lasted a while. He- he thought he loved her, you know? But I guess somewhere along the way, after he realized that she had Mark... He kinda gave up. And now, it's you. It's not the same, but it's more... There. You guys might not mesh all the time- but... It doesn't matter. You know it, you just can't trust yourself to believe it." Cameron smiled sadly, "I guess... It just wasn't meant for us. There are always reasons and answers in House's world. And this time, your the answer."

Before Cuddy could respond, Cameron whirled around and marched off, a smile tugging once more. She let it brim over, happy to finally have gotten that off of her chest and out in the open. She and House were done; he was way older, and she... well she had Chase. He meant more to her than she'd thought House meant to her. Chase looked up from his work as she walked in, and asked her what was wrong. Cameron just smiled, tears still rolling down her cheeks.

* * *

**(Sorry for such cheesiness in last section!!!!!)**

"Nibble, he nibbles, chew, chew.... Little rat in my shoe... Giant hole, a toe peeks through..." Gregory sung the childish song he'd made up as he walked home, staring intently at the hole in the toe of his right sneaker. He debated lying to his Mom, but thought better of it. She usually knew, and he was scared of what his Dad would say if he found out he was lying.

His father was a moral freak. So intent on sticking to his morals, he couldn't even allow the small miracle of Christmas to be a happy time. Greg never even had a chance to celebrate a proper Christmas, with the happy thought of Santa Clause bringing him a gift.

House was reminded of a particular Christmas when his father had brought home a giant turkey, and even though the Christmas morning was slightly odd, House recalled having fun. His father had actually helped him to stuff the turkey, and they'd laughed and thrown stuffing at each other, despite his Mom's playful scowling. House saw the seen filter into view, and it was Christmas morning all over again.

"Greg!Wake up, boy!"A strong pair of hands shook his shoulders, and Greg looked around, his face bewildered. Understanding sprang across Greg's young features, and House smiled to himself from his position in the corner. "Come on, it's Christmas!"

Greg hopped out of bed, yanking on the robe his father handed him and forcing his feet haphazardly into his slippers. With a squeal of excitement he followed his father down the stairs, unquestioning of one of the few happy moments. His father tossed him a present, and Greg carefulyl pealed off the paper. He slid a finger under the paper, gently lifting the tape from the paper, and moving to another side to peel it away there. He and his father always compeeted to see who could waste less paper. Greg unwrapped the package completely, only ripping one edge of the paper.

"Ooh! Thanks, Dad!" Greg held the baseball glove up to his mother who smiled.

"I figured you could use some toughening up; all you do is sit inside and play that damned piano." Greg's eyes flashed with hurt for a moment, and then it was repressed as he focused on the encouragig tone in his father's voice.

"Do you think we can try it out later?" His father nodded, and Greg smiled."Here! Open this one!" Greg picked up the large box he'd wrapped ever so carefully for his father.

"Okay. I wonder what it could be!" His smile pressed into a look of concentration as he carefully slipped a weathered finger under a crease of paper, and dragged it slowly sideways.

It seemed to take a lifetime for him to finish unwrapping it! Greg and House looked expectantly at their father, anticipating the expression when he steady hands, John House lifted the lid and pushed it back.

"Do you like it?" Inquired Greg excitedly.

John fingered the smooth surface of the small case and opened it, an impassive look covering his face. The golden watch glittered up at him, the linked band shimmering in the tree's lights. His father didn't say anything, but instead close the box gently and plucked one from underneath the tree, and handed it to Greg.

House followed his father as he left the room, but an unseen barrier stopped him from going. His mother passed through him; House looked down to himself, wondering absently if he was turning back to face himself, he pressed a hand to his face to see if he was still real.

"Don't worry about him, he's just feeling sentimental... "

"He's dead in your time, isn't he." It wasn't a question but a simple observation, albeit an unexpected one;House nodded, though Greg didn't even look up from the package he was touching. House watched as his own fingers slid across the package, feeling it even though the one's attached to his fingers remained still. It was curious to think that he'd never realized he could feel things. He wondered if he had suddenly gained feeling of things, or if it had been there all along and he hadn't noticed it. The pain in his leg was still gone, but he couldn't remember where it went.

"Uhm, yeah." The question seemed so long ago to him already, and House felt like he was drifting away already.

House remembered the time his father had come out to see him when he was working on a case. His mother and father had mosied into his office, cool as could be, and his father had even invited Cameron to eat lunch with them. But he'd been glad she declined, and with some degree of an epiphany he remembered that his father had been wearing that exact watch when he came to visit. He realized that his father had always worn that watch, though he'd never seen it.

The absent touching of his sleeves hadn't been a weird habit at all, but an attempt to hide the gift he wore all the time! House almost smiled to himself as he let the seen fizle out, tapering off into oblivion. He landed somewhere on yet another rainy day, and he was sitting after school with his aunt.

"He's not my father! He can't be!" Wailed Greg, his shoulders shaking as he slobbered tears onto the desk. House cringed and reddened at the sight of himself, remembering the moment with dreadful clarity.

"And what if he's not?" asked his aunt calmly.

"Wait- you believe me?" Greg's head had snapped up from the desk as he stared at her intently, tears still staining his face.

"I'm remaining impartial- I am going to gather all the facts, put pieces together until I solve the puzzle. Then I'll tell you what I think." Greg hiccuped in response, the corners of his mouth turning up. His watery blue eyes, still shocking in their color were raw red. The usually white corneas streaked with red veins of discomfortant and pain.

"That doesn't help me at all-" Greg stopped as a sob rattled hsi rib cage, and he took a big shuddering breath. House tried to identify what grade he'd been in, and settled on around sixth, judging by the width of his shoulders. He'd been a runt in sixth grade, though he was stronger than most of the others. He could thank his father's military lifestyle for that.

"Aw, baby," Aunt Maurine cradled Greg's head to her chest, rocking him back and forth as though he were a baby, and Greg hiccuped feebly in response. "Either ways he loves you, he just has more trouble showing it. He and his brother may look the same, but they're very different people. War changes people; more than you'd know."

Greg nodded, and Aunt Maurine ran a hand through his brown hair before pulling him back to look at him. "Tell you what. You come here after school whenever you want to talk, or you upset, angry- _anything_-and we'll map out whatever needs fixing, okay?"

Greg smiled. "Can we try it now?" He asked shyly, and he smiled a watery smile when his aunt obliged with a smile and hug.

"Of course we can, baby," Aunt Maurine rose from her chair and took Greg by the hand. She led him to chalk board and pressed a yellow piece of chalk into his hand. Greg stared at her, andthen looked to the green board before looking back to her questioningly. "Go on, _you_ start. That's the important thing. _You_ have to do it, and only you. It's your riddle to solve. "

Greg looked uncertainly to the chalk, and then bit his lip as he eyed the chalk board. House's mind was whirling as he watched this. He was thinking of all the things he would list now, if only he could go back. He grimaced slightly as he watched the unsteady hand approach the board uncertainly.

The chalk squeaked slightly as he dragged it around, and Greg grimaced. He lifted the chalk a little, and finished the sentence. '_John House is _not_ my father.'_ He looked nervously over to Aunt Maurine who only nodded, lifting a hand to tell him to proceed.

"I don't know what to do now!" Confessed Greg, his brows puckering nervously.

"Why isn't he your father? What are the clues, the pieces to the puzzle?" Greg nodded, the soft thank you tumlbing quietly from his lips.

He is.... Greg's hand slumped to his side as he thought, and House rejected the memory, kicking off into obscurity. It felt good _not_ to feel, and he let out a breath of pent up frustration, greif, fear, and every other emotion he'd been repressing for the past life-town. He shouted, kicking out at nothing, and threw himself a fit in mid air, floating around in nothing. He drifted a moment longer, and then lay back with a sigh. Drifting into nothing sounded good, and he figured he'd let it take him where it would.

**Author's Note- Yeah. I wrote it. You read it. Please review it! It's one in the morning,and I am off to bed. So later! :) I hope you liked it, I liked writing Are AMAZING. :D  
**

**Lauren/Mellokai  
**


	10. Out of the Void,Into the Hole

"I don't think I can adopt the baby, Wilson..." Sighed Cuddy, staring forlornly at her hands, frustration tugging at the corners of her mouth," House; I- but- well he... I just can't."

"That's perfectly understandable, Cuddy," Wilson urged with solid reassurance. "It would be irresponsible of you to take a baby at the time."

"I know, but... God forgive me..."Cuddy looked up to him helplessly. "I love him so much, but I think right now I hate him even more."

"God?" Wilson's eyes questioned her curiously, and comfortingly without judgment.

"No, House... He's taken himself away from us by not telling us he felt out of sorts, and now he's taken my baby from me. I don't know how much more I can take of this." She looked over to House, her face crestfallen and guilty. "Does that make me an awful person?"

"I don't think so. You can only love a person when it's possible to hate them. Love and hate are such kindred feelings that the slightest slip could change the emotion, and to experience one- at some time you must feel the other. Love is a funny thing, but it is what it is. And it does what it has too."Wilson turned to leave, his hand opening the thick door without a sound.

"Wilson- thanks," Cuddy smiled thankfully up to him, and sighed softly. "You know, if I ever _do _have a kid... I think I'd want you to be Godfather."

"Don't let him hear that, I think he'd be insulted." Smiled Wilson. Cuddy followed his brotherly gaze,and a smile crept to her face.

"God, he looks so peaceful doesn't he?"

"Nope." Confused, Cuddy turned to hear his explanation, but Wilson was already eyed House, wondering if he was on Morphine yet. Did he even need it?

* * *

House wobbled along, his feet every so often slipping on the metal beam. Everything else was gone,not white... just gone. Simply clear looking space stared back at him, and it seemed strange to him not see even anything looking out to see him. The floors-slash-ground as he referred to it was gray, the most boring grey you could imagine. It was the same drab color his skin had taken on at some point.

He hummed a purposefully off-key tune as if to epitomize the absurdity of the situation. He drifted idly along, his feat barely even touching the metal rail he was balancing on. He'd been wandering for hours, and he absently wondered if it was one giant, endless circle. He hefted a bored sigh from his lungs, forcing it out in a slow draft of air, his physique practically oozing boredom.

"You wanted this," House visibly jumped at the sound of his younger self. Startle felled him and down he swooped from the slender rail.

"I did not! You think I want to be bored out of my mind? I spend my days _avoiding _boredom!"

"You didn't want to feel anything. _Boredom _is the side effect of_ nothing_, you know. If you want to 'feel' again, go right ahead. Let me know, because that can be arranged. But you may not like it." Warned Greg, though his face twisted into a smile. "But I know _I_ will."

House fixedly at himself, desiring strongly to punch the little bastard in the face.

"Go ahead! Hit me! We're the same, one and all! You don't hate _me! _You hate _you! _And I've got your cornered like a little pup!" House took an uncertain step backwards as he watched himself aged thirty five years in a matter of seconds."Coward," House was running, fleeing from the monster spewing hate toward him. "Run like the little bitch you are!"

House laughed to himself a little as he dodged a projectile weapon. He just called himself a bitch. A _bitch. _He was still laughing when 'Greg' punched him in the face, only stopping for a moment to register the pain. And then away he giggled.

"Fight, you moron!" Greg dragged him upwards and then punched him once more. House narrowed his eyes and shrugged with a smirk.

"Fine." It was hard to not stop hitting after he'd started. All the years of self-loathing and pity seemed to fly off his hands as he landed blow after blow on the now defenseless reflection of himself. Even after the startling moral realization, House couldn't stop. He was trying to murder himself.

* * *

A passerby walked somberly to his room, where his wife was awaiting a checkup to see if she was pregnant. He wasn't ready for a kid, but she'd stopped taking birth control so she could get pregnant. He could just imagine the baby crying all night, loud bleating and endless wailing. Come to think of it, he could hear the bleating now! HE was going insane, wasn't he?

He looked to the left, his dark brows furrowing when he saw the man before him, his whole body trembling at one time. THe heart monitor was almost blurring a steady beep his heart was beating so fast.

"Nurse!? I think he needs help!" Shouted the man apprehensively. A nurse looked up to him, and then saw past him to the man bucking and trembling, shaking the bed in the process.

"We need a crash cart, stat!" Screeched the nurse, sprinting to the bedside of the man, and pressing him into the mattress.

"Hey, is he gonna be okay?" The man asked, looking around with surprise as someone pulled him out of the room.

"Sir, you can't be in here!" And then he was pushed from the room. He stared at the door for a minute, read the mans named, and then walked back to see his wife. House. He'd have to remember to ask the nurses later if the man was okay.

* * *

His arms were heavy, weighted down with heavy blocks tied to his arms. House was falling through a cloud of black, his reflection beside screaming in fear and panic. But House fell silently, content to suffer in silence.

He thought as he fell, realizing things he'd never noticed before. For one thing, he obviously had some serious self-loathing issues. Sure he knew that this couldn't possible be reality, and it had something to do with his brain stirring something up. He hoped it was a dream and not some strange alternative. But nevertheless, he understood now that he didn't necessarily like himself, but when had there ever been a time he truly had?

This reflection, not his younger self but is true reflection was either some sort of alter ego, or true reflection of his innermost feelings and emotions. The war that was raging in his subconscious, past the mere surface. It was odd to actually think about such things. Usually when confronted with such deep consequences he was more apt to pop a Vicodin than sit down and think about it. But this... well it felt good. Comparatively anyway, as opposed to feeling nothing.

'_Shit...'_ House could see the ground rushing up to meet him, and he grabbed for anything that might help him, might slow him down. But then he remembered there was nothing. And so with a sigh he resigned himself to fall, wondering where he'd land.

More unsettling than the falling was that fact that he didn't land. He opened his eyes and looked around, his mind reeling. He was lying in something soft, and across from him, his younger self residided in a bed.

"Do you still want to feel?" Whispered Greg, his face nervous and excited at the same time.

House nodded, biting his lip as he did so.

"It's gonna hurt, though. You gotta trust me on this, okay? Do you _really _trust me?"

"I do. I trust you." House nodded. He wondered at the last moment if it was a bad idea, but it was already to late. Greg had already grabbed his hands, and now they were speeding. How could such a small boy move so fast? House knew it wasn't himself anymore, but someone else.

"You are me now, okay? When you wake up, everything's going to be easier, I promise. At least for the first day."

"First day?! But how- what do you mean the first day?!" Burst House.

"You'll see! Just trust me on this!" Smiled Greg.

"But I don't want to!"

"Stop acting like a child, or better yet, go ahead. See where _that_ lands you." Shrugged Greg.

"What does that even _mean?_" Sputtered House.

"Don't worry. You won't even remember this. Not yet anyway."

"Huh?

"Goodbye, _Gregory." _The last thing House saw before the white washed over him was his smiling face, and the sound of his mother's voice calling him back to Earth_.

* * *

_"Wilson! He moved! Look! He moved!" Cuddy jumped up from the bedside, grabbing House's hand and rubbing it vigorously as if to wake him up. His long fingers twitched spaztically in her own, and she beamed.

"House?"

"Momma... Where's she?" Slurred House, looking around, one eye still drooping shut with drowsiness.

"House, do you know where you are?" Asked Wilson nervously.

"Huh-uh..." House tried to shake his head 'no' but grimaced painfully at the movement, and tears built up in his eyes. "I feel like my head got run over by a cemi... Where's my Momma?"

"You're Mom?" Asked Cuddy sceptically, raising a brow.

"Uhm, you're mom can't come out to see you yet," Improvised Wilson. "She's uh... She's sick too!"

"Oh... I forgot to get Dad something for his birthday... He's not gonna mind, but I wanted to get him something..."Slurred House, his words becoming incoherrant.

"Hey, buddy, just a medical question here, how old are you?" Asked Wilson, his voice light and cheery.

"Why do _you_ need to even _ask _that? You have my file!"Protested House, his voice rising, cracking and cracking weakly.

"We don't need to know, it's to make sure you're still lucid- you know, feeling-"

"I _know_ what it means. I'm not four, you know!" House said bitterly, his voice soft. "I'm sorry... I just don't feel good... Uhm, what was the question again?"

"How old are you?" Summarized Cuddy.

"Oh, I'm... Well, I think I'm nine. Nine or ten. I can't remember what day it is. My birthday is soon, and Dad said we could go to the theme park! We're gonna ride all the roller coasters, as long as I don't get sick on him again!" House smiled loopily, and giggled. "I threw up on him last time. Boy was he mad."

"Alrightie, buddy, that's all we need for now. Just hang out here, and take it easy. Watch some TV, okay?" Cuddy pressed the remote gently into his hand and smiled comfortingly before leaving with Wilson.

Out in the hall, Cuddy was panicking. "Oh my God, what are we going to do? I mean- we need him to solve al the important cases, and he's acting like he's high! We need to do something! Get him evaluated, tested-"

"Cuddy! We will get him evaluated. This is to be expected of a brain hemorrhage! We need to take it slow, and let what be what will be. He might get better, if not... Well, we'll be able to figure out why he is, well... _was _such an ass."

"I can still here you!" Called out House, his tone familiarly sardonic. That would be one of the last things familiar about him for a long time. The House they knew was gone, the fact being that they had no idea for how long. It could be forever, a day- even weeks or months. No one knew. Only House, and he would be back only when he was perfectly ready. Which might be a while.

**Author's Note- I hope this cleared up what was wrong with him! I hope you liked it! Reviews are amazing, everyone loves them! Input is appreciated; ideas or suggestions, even questions are appreciated! :) Enjoy! I hope you hang around for some more, and uh... Have fun! :) Happy Almost- Spring time! :D**

**Lauren/Mellokai  
**


	11. Time is the Answer to All Problems

House fiddled with the I-pod, his memory still spotty. He remembered many things, even though he still believe himself to be a child. In a way, he had manged to safely full his brain into this sort of peaceful calm, and he was even seeing according to his delusional state. Everyone was younger, and they looked as they did when they were children. Sometimes they'd flicker back to what they always looked like, but then they'd change into children again. It was an odd hallucination to have, even though it didn't seem like a hallucination to him.

Everyone was super nice to him, and he basked in it. His leg pain was the worst thing he'd felt in his life, but he mentally blocked it, like a bad memory. He parted with the cane and opted for a wheel-chair. He zoomed down the halls like a four year old with amazing motor-skills, and a few of the older folks on the floor always cheered him on, viewing him as the upholder of their rebellious spirits and tendencies they could no longer carry vaguely remembered riding around in one to win a bet, and wondered why he'd needed to win the bet anyway. Wheel-chairs were the _best!_

House felt odd at times, like he was floating above everyone as he sat and watched them work. It could be quite frightening as their faces flickered and his mind wavered with a feverish quivering. He'd rest his head in his arms, blocking out the horrible faces, his neck twitching, and his head pitching and rolling as he forced the thoughts from his minds. But ten minutes later, he'd sit up again and act perfectly fine. It was rather unsettling, even though it was a just a mix of his brain slowly healing and the effects of the Vicodin he was on.

Cuddy would stare at him for long periods of time, simply thinking about him and wondering if he was okay. She was growing slightly worried about something that seemed to be trivial, but could possibly mean something. She couldn't bare to think of what would happen if it turned out to truly be... But it was what she craved, what she'd wanted wasn't it? But with him like that... it would make it hard to enjoy anything that he'd been a part of if he couldn't see what he'd done that was so magnificent! She shoved the thought aside and resolved to stare longingly at him, as if her mere 'closet-love' would bring him around again.

Wilson would pick House up from work everyday, and drive House home. House's medical knowledge was there, but it took him a while to mull things over. He was still funny and charming, though not quite as cynical. He was often straightforward but with a polite-ness they knew he'd been trying to escape as an adult. It was painful to see him say thank-you or murmur soft apologies when he did something wrong. However, lately he'd been growing more spunky and had shaved half of Taub's eyebrow off, but then had apologized profusely, claiming he didn't know what came over him. House's cast had finally come off, and he could wobble around, or roll in his chair as he pleased. Massaging his sore leg was much easier now, and he took full advantage of that. He loved the long baths, and of course he accepted Wilson's gracious gift of free medical visits to a physical therapist. House was more obedient, and seeing as he thought he was nine most of the time, he didn't object. He gave Wilson the silent treatment for a good six hours but soon relented and was playing childish games with the whole staff again.

He and Wilson were quite notably spotted putting on a show for the cancer children in oncology. House danced around like a fool, smiling grandly when the children laughed and giggled. Wilson, unfortunately, was conned by House into wearing clown makeup. He was a 'sappy' clown as House proudly announced him to the kids. "All sad and happy in one!" Cuddy was on the fence about House getting his full memory back. House was happier this way, and she couldn't help but wonder if he would be better off this was either right, or she was was still a feisty one, no doubting that. But he was happier without remembering,though it was unclear if it was for better or worse. Not even House knew which answer was the right one.

* * *

"Wait! I thought you said I was going to therapy!" Protested House, bracing himself against the dashboard. Wilson frowned. He'd grown used to House being more... cooperative. House had progressed a little, and sometimes was almost himself again. Others, he acted like a teenager. Or even younger, depending on the time and mood he was in.

"I did. I never said anything about it being physical therapy!" Wilson shrugged with a smirk. "Now get out, before you miss your appointment."

"No! I don't want to talk to anybody! No!"House crossed his arms in childish defiance across his chest.

"Don't you make me drag you in there!"

"I'm not going!" Shot House, clamping his arms down tighter, his grimace deepening angrily,"And _you _can't make me!"

"Watch me." Wilson deadpanned threateningly.

He pushed open the door and House scowled. "I'll tell them you're touching me inappropriately!"

"House! Get out of the car- before I yank you out!" Wilson opened the door, waiting for a moment to see if House would comply. "House, please get out of the car."

"Never!" Declared House in a mock baby's voice, pushing his hands into the dashboard, and his legs downward to brace himself.

Wilson sighed heavily and grabbed House by the shoulders and yanked."Help! Rape!" Screeched House, and a mother with a small child glanced at him in horror.

"Sorry! He doesn't want to see his therapist! He's got serious problems!" Wilson nodded nervously, and yanked once more on House's arm. What House said next caused the mother to run away, yanking her child along as fast as she could.

"Help me! He's insane! He's going to steal my skin and wear it as a disguise! Help! Help!" Wilson stepped back, staring disgustedly at House.

"House you are one _sick_ man." Wilson shook his head and slammed the door, walking back around to his side of the car.

"We're leaving?" Asked House excitedly,a knowing, pleased smile turning up the corners of his mouth.

"Nope." Wilson yanked out his phone, and dialed the number for the office.

"What are you doing!? No! We were _supposed _to leave after I embarrassed you! That's not fair!" House childishly slammed his fist down on the dashboard, carrying on his temper tantrum for only a minute before abruptly halting, for no apparent reason.

"Alrightie, you're not going to see Miss Harmond."

"Yes!" House pumped a victorious fist into the air, flinching when it hit the ceiling. "Ooops."

"Don't get too excited. You're still going to see someone. I just don't know who..."

House swore, and Wilson rose a brow."Sorry. Here." House fished a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet as penalty fine of the 'no swearing law',then proceeded to swear like a sailor for the next ten minutes.

* * *

"Me? I don't know anything about psychology!"Hissed Cuddy, staring at House as he doodled on the marker board in the diagnostics room.

"So? Just do your best and secretly record the session. That way you can send it to the doctor, and he won't even know! I'll tell him we dropped the whole psychologist thing, and just...let him forget about it before we move on!" Wilson's mind spun deviously.

"But Wilson...I don't know about this..."

"Cuddy. What's the worst that can happen?"

"Alright, fine..."Cuddy put her head in her hand as she watched House spin the board around as fast as it would go. She grimaced when it toppled over and House made a mad dive to catch it. "God, how long has it been again? I can't even keep track..."

"About three weeks. He's doing better. I'm glad his hair's growing back in, otherwise he'd kill us. I never though I'd get to see the day when House went bald..." Wilson smiled with a laughed, but Cuddy merely grimaced.

"Hey, Wilson... A few days before House came in here for... Well you know... the thing, something happened."

"What?"

"House and I sorta... went out on a date, and that lead to- well you know what I mean."

"Wait a minute- does this have to do with what I think you're trying to say? You can't be! That's impossible!"

"Well... It could.... I still haven't done the test yet. Do you think-?" Cuddy stared at him, biting her lip nervously.

"I don't know... I honestly don't know. Could he _have _worse timing!? Damn your untimely femininity!" Wilson sighed and then smiled. "I guess either way you get what you wanted! A baby, right? And maybe he'll come around-"

"What if he doesn't!? I can't raise two children, Wilson!"

"If I know him- he will. Just give it time." Wilson nodded comfortingly, and Cuddy smiled wearily. Yes, time was the answer to every problem.

**Author's Note- Hope you liked it! Sorry for being so topsy turvy- I've been planning this! Remember how I snuck that Huddy in a few chaps ago? I've been planning it all along! MUAHAHHAHHAHHAH! Reviews are amazing, and greatly appreciated! :) Any questions, suggestions, info or guesses as to what will happen next- you know what to do! Sorry if it's badly written, but I wanted to get it out of my head before I lost it. :) **

**Lauren/Mellokai**

**Review Pllllease! I love reviews! :D They rock! And so do you! Lol.  
**


	12. Not Lost, But Not Quiet Found Either

House stared at his shoes as Cuddy took a seat across from him in her leather recliner. She pulled her feet up onto the chair, nervously covering them with the blanket.

House nodded along to the ear bud in his ear, the thin white cord his single lifeline, his only means of escape should something come up he didn't feel comfortable talking with. It was like being a kid again and sitting in the waiting room with his mother to go see yet another shrink. God, that woman had always thought there was something wrong with him; he loved her so much but she hadn't helped at all with his selfish 'superiority complex' as Wilson put it.

Cuddy remembered absently at this thought that Wilson told her House had rebutted with a 'yes, and you have a messiah complex...' and went on to make a dig at Wilson's many wives and often disastrous relationships.

House idly tapped his fingers on his legs, drumming out the beat of the song on his fingers, accurately matching the keys. She sighs, he notices, whenever he gets particularly into the song, and so he does that just to annoy her. Maybe, if he's lucky, she'll drop the whole thing, and engage in verbal warfare rather than delve into the farthest corners of his mind.

And fight they do, though House's usual antics aren't involved, and his childish digs seem to have more of a sting than his usual. The following scene is the fight that ensues after House's silent concerto.

"So, you wanna talk about music or something?" Asked Cuddy nervously. She'd never been good at extracting information without being somewhat forceful, or using her womanly wiles. But, before her sat one of the most stubborn men she had ever known, and in his current state of mind he had about as much romantically interest in her as he did chopping off a finger.

"Nope. " House kept the answer short, brief- his father had taught him this. Don't leave room for them to make inferences, but rather keep the focus of the conversation aloft, and quickly shifting. Best way to sucker punch someone mentally was to blindside them- though it had taken him twenty years to perfect it. In this state of mind, he was still pretty horrible at it. No one said perfection came naturally. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to it anymore, but he couldn't back down now, could he?

"Well, would you like to talk about your... parents?" Guessed Cuddy.

"No, but I'm sure you'd like to talk about my parents, huh?" Remarked House snidely, making a rude gesture. He remembered vaguely going to see a psychiatrist with his Mom when he was little, and he'd hated it. The stupid man wouldn't even let him finish his sentences, and read false meaning and emotion into anything he said. He'd let feeling worse than when he'd got there.

"Have you _no_ manners?" Snapped Cuddy, her hand twitching as though she'd love to slap him.

"Look, lady! What do you want from me? To spill my guts about how awful my father was? To tell you how I used to sleep in the doghouse in our backyard?" House fumed, the words he'd let slip still hanging from his lips. He'd already begun making up lies to throw her off her track when she asked about it later, as he knew she would.

"No, I want to help you, House! Can't you see that?" Cuddy pleaded, her anger falling almost completely away.

"Fix me?" Deadpanned House. The thunder rolled, and his voice rose. "Fix me!? Who said I was broken?! You call yourself a doctor- everyone has problems! We all deal with it! There's nothing wrong with me! I don't need your damn pity, Cuddy!" It was a moment of clarity, and as sharp as he felt now, it would go away very soon.

The thing he said next was so atrocious Cuddy didn't even register her actions. With his remark, her self-control flew out the window.

Slap! _That_ was the sound of Cuddy slapping him, all mental problems and boundaries aside. She didn't care at that moment, and in the next second she was dialing Wilson to come get him. Bang! Now that- _that_ was the sound of the door slamming as House stalked out of her home, stuffing his ear buds into his ears.

He shoved his arms into his coat that he'd grabbed off the back of the couch, and popped up the collar to brace himself against the harsh winds, the heavy rain plastering his hair to his head. If ever he looked so old and tired, it was now. His shoulders hunched as the music filled him from the inside.

**Just because I'm losing  
Doesn't mean I'm lost  
Doesn't mean I'll stop  
Doesn't mean I would cross**

He didn't understand why he felt some damn angry, and he had a craving so strong, but he couldn't identify what for. It was like being in love with someone,and not remembering who they were. His chest restricted and he sighed heavily, the rain pounding against his skull in a somewhat comforting manner.

**Just because I'm hurting  
Doesn't mean I'm hurt  
Doesn't mean I didn't get  
What I deserved  
No better and no worse**

The last line reminded of his father, and he wondered almost casually why things were the way they were. It seemed to him at that moment that if he'd just complied with his father when he was in a rage that it would've been simpler, and easier. His mother wouldn't have had to- that thought made him even madder. She was supposed to be some fantastical woman, and here she'd let it all happen.

**I just got lost  
Every river that I tried to cross  
Every door I ever tried was locked  
Ohhh and I'm...  
Just waiting 'til the shine wears off**

Shine? What shine? When did he find a shine to anything in life other than in what was already broken? He fixed things, it was what had made him feel useful even when he was told he was nothing. He didn't know; he could tell whether or not he was crying, because the rain was pounding too heavily. His leg was hurting something terrible as he limped along, and the seering pain epitomized his angered and self-pitying feelings.

**You might be a big fish  
In a little pond  
Doesn't mean you've won  
Cause along may come  
A bigger one**

He was standing outside the window of a cafe watching a family eating their meal, and something about it just got to him. He took off a faster walk for somewhere, anywhere but there, not even knowing that a distraught Cuddy was hot on his heals. He trudged into the park across the street, and stopped to watch a family of ducks fighting over the dry spot on the little fake dock.

**And you'll be lost  
Every river that you tried to cross  
Every gun you ever held went off  
Ohhh and I'm...  
Just waiting until the firing stopped  
Ohhh and I'm...  
Just waiting 'til the shine wears off**

A jolt of lightning, followed ever so closely by lightning seemed to wake him up a little, and he looked up to the sky, and lifted his arms out to his sides. It felt good to stand in the rain. The pain in his leg was fading as he stood, and he smiled a little. He opened his eyes as the lightning flashed, and Cuddy was caught by surprise at the beauty of the moment. The light flickered across his drenched features, and his open eyes were triumphant, and she was so close she could see the droplets clinging to his clumped eyelashes.

The piano rung out with strong, clear notes in House's ears as he found her face in the darkness. Any trace of happiness washed from his face, and he took off. She wondered how a man who was in so much pain could fool everyone else into thinking he was fine with his life when he clearly wasn't. When he was clearly miserable. Cuddy held out the umbrella in her hand, as if to extend an offer of peace.

**Ohhh and I...  
Just waiting 'til the shine wears off  
Ohhh and I..  
Just waiting 'til the shine wears off**

House stared at the umbrella for a minute before almost shyly accepting it from her. Cuddy smiled softly, and he jerked his head ask if to say "Oh, come on already." And so she joined him under the umbrella, and they walked, Cuddy following wherever House decided to lead her.

* * *

When they ended up in front of the hospital, Cuddy was only mildly was after all where he spent nearly all of his time.

"So, is this where you feel safest?" She asked offhandedly, reaching down to unzip her parka as they walked through the door.

"Safer than 'my' place," Shrugged House with a pained expression.

"I can relate. My house... I don't get quite the same feeling there as I do here."Cuddy sighed softly, and House turned to look at her. Cuddy studied his features almost guiltily, knowing that he had the emotional capacity of about an eight year old, and yet she was getting the hots for him. Sad and defenseless had never look so good.

"You get to fix stuff here, who'd _not _want that?" Shrugged House, hissing a little as he stepped over the treshold into an elevator.

Cuddy frowned slightly, then shrugged. "I don't know. It seems a bit of a hassle though." She was baiting him, waiting to see what she got.

"Not really. If you're an ass, you get to have fun. At least I think so. And besides, the nice doctors don't get remembered." He made his voice high-pitched. "Oh that doctor was so nice! It's a shame he couldn't save our little Julie!' I'd rather be an ass and save lives. They'll think 'Gee, he was an asshole. But he saved he life!' And besides, the asshole is always remembered. You don't remember the nice guy who holds the door for you, but you'll sure as heck remember the guy who hits the close sign just so you can't ride with him."

"Yeah..." Cuddy had never even thought of it that way, and she wondered why on Earth anyone would be so desparate to be remembered that they would go to such extremes.

"So.... uh, well this is my stop." House murmured uncomfortably.

"Okay." Smiled Cuddy,"I'll be in my office. Let me know if uh... you need anything, okay?"

House nodded, even though he knew she'd probably be the _last _person he asked. She'd never take him seriously after this, would she? He sighed, and shook his head. He was coming back into himself, but it was taking so damn long. At this point, he didn't know if he'd ever get back to who he used to be.

**Author's Note- I KNOW it's been two months- exactly to be honest. And I'm so sorry! I've had serious House block, and it was unstoppable! I need some inspiration guys, and some ideas! Help an author out? :) Thanks for anything you got! **

**Lauren/Mellokai  
**


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